Opening Bell
by Moih
Summary: Myra Bell is a shy trading analyst intern who works at the Gotham Stock Exchange. After being taken hostage by Bane during his orchestrated heist aimed at bankrupting Wayne Enterprises, she finds herself opening up to Bane in more ways than one. (Bane/OC)
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

_**Author: Hey! Welcome! Thanks for stopping by! I just have a few quick warnings about this story. First off; there is strong language, abuse, rape, sex, and violence in this story. **_

**_Also, there's a lot of sass and humor. 'MAJOR' sass attacks, especially as the story progresses. It's not entirely dramatic/angsty all the time (while there are those things in the story, there are also some funny 'bits' as well)._**

_**Anyhow, sit back, buckle in, and enjoy! Don't forget to review :) **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

The opening bell rang. In terms of stocks and trading, the sound of an opening bell referred to the commencement of the trading day on an exchange floor. Given the advancement of today's technology with the majority of trading happening virtually there were only two places left in the United States that still rang an actual bell; the New York Stock Exchange and the Gotham Stock Exchange.

Myra jolted when she heard the bell. On top of Myra still being relatively new to the Gotham Stock Exchange floor, the bell was both loud and sudden despite her awareness of time and anticipation of it going off. Myra's jolted reaction caused her to raise her shoulders up, almost as if she could use the tips of her shoulders to arch inward towards her head to make contact with her ears and deafen the sound. Myra's boss took notice and gave her a playful pat on the back.

"Don't you love that sound?!" he asked Myra playfully.

Myra narrowed her gray-blue eyes briefly and looked off to the side away from her boss, restraining herself from making rude comments. She slowly rediscovered her composure and straightened out her back.

"It's just so loud. I hate loud," Myra mumbled to him.

Her boss appraised her words briefly, before giving her a shrug.

"Well, I hate to tell you this, but you may have picked the wrong profession. The 'pit' is anything but quiet," he said condescendingly.

Myra didn't respond to his remark. 'The Pit' was what the floor brokers, floor traders, and market makers called the main Gotham Stock Exchange floor. It more or less attempted to describe the somewhat seemingly hostile and loud confrontations that tended to take place on it. Myra knew there was also some truth to her boss's words in regard to her choosing an appropriate career choice. She wondered the same thing for the past several weeks, after being accepted as a 'Trading Analyst Intern' for Daggett Industries, the signature brown blazer coat of Daggett employees that frequented the stock exchange floor proof of her new position. She knew she was being optimistic about her capabilities and skillset when the internship requested someone who worked well in high-pressure environments, could be comfortable working in a trading environment, and was analytical. She had the analytical part down – it was the other two traits that she was still fumbling with.

Her role as an intern didn't require her to make any business-related stock decisions, but instead was more or less a coffee mule for her boss as well as supporting his operations while at the stock exchange in hopes of slowly coaxing her into a role as an entry level trader for the company. Myra was also aware of her boss's misogyny and massive ego. She didn't put it past him to hire her simply because of her looks and his desire to have someone moderately easy-on-the-eyes at his beck and call. Her suspicions were always confirmed when she caught him taking a quick glance at her boobs or her ass when he thought she wouldn't notice. She always noticed.

Myra just finished her Bachelor's in economics and was still unsure about what area of 'economics' she wanted to delve into. She didn't pursue her degree in economics immediately out of high school; instead, she spent several years traveling and exploring various odd-ball jobs, even getting her private pilot's license and helicopter license while briefly working at a helicopter tourist location as a pilot. She lived mostly off of the money she inherited from her grandma, however, who also had been her lone-surviving relative.

Her parents and only other sibling died in a car crash when she was 5 and she had no remaining living grandparents. Despite also being in the same vehicle as her family, her injuries were minor with only a scar on her forehead and on her lower back proof of the accident. She liked to keep her ashy blonde hair cut with bangs to cover her forehead in order to hide the visual reminder.

She lived with her grandma following the accident, until her grandma's death when she was 18 years old. Perhaps it was her introverted personality, or remnants of her trauma as a child, but Myra didn't have many (if any) strong relationships in her life. This could also partly be due to her mind trying to convince her not to get in a situation that could cause her further emotional trauma. Myra, being the introvert that she was as well as being analytical, had no problem adjusting to this lack of relationships in her life. Did it make her socially awkward sometimes? Absolutely. Would she have it any other way? Nope. She also didn't currently bother with boyfriends, after a few failed relationships and equally failed attempts at using online dating apps put her off the notion as well as the recent disgusting behavior attributed by her boss.

Myra's boss led them further into the center of 'the pit' next to the monitors and computer stations. Once there, her boss immediately began interacting with one of the trading floor specialists in regard to an upcoming stock listing. Myra knew she was supposed to be attentive during this time, but she couldn't help but allow her eyes to wander around when her boss's behavior became animated and frenzied, particularly if this went on for several hours.

Several hours did indeed pass before Myra's eyes settled on the actual physical opening bell that had gone off earlier that morning, now nearly noon, wondering how old the bell must be based on the aqua-colored oxidized copper of the outer shell of the bell. She was clearly focused on her work.

Myra jolted once again, not because the bell rang but because a single shot was heard, a man next to her dropping to the ground from an apparent gun shot to his chest. Myra reacted by instinctively dropping to the ground on her chest, eyeing the man concernedly with the gunshot wound. _Did he really...get shot? Is he okay? _She then immediately heard a string of bullets being shot into the air by at least 3 individuals dispersed throughout the exchange that snapped her attention away from the gunshot victim, all with semi-automatic weapons and seemingly unfazed by their acts of terrorism.

Myra covered her head as sparks flew like fireworks from the terrorists blowing out the digital displays and monitors keeping track of the stock exchange figures. They did this until all of the screens were blown. She saw from the corner of her eye a large man wearing a leather delivery jacket and a distinct large mask covering his face enter through the main doors to "the pit", his saunter and presence of self clearly marking himself as the leader. Her first impression of him was that he must be a big huge idiot brute who used his fists to smash things to get his way. He was markedly larger and more imposing than the other men she had marked as his henchmen. The mask he wore was almost comical by the sinister nature of it, which reminded her of a large spider that was latched onto his face. She didn't feel like the situation was very comical, however.

He sauntered halfway through the throng of huddled and prone bodies, pausing to look around at the frightened faces with disregard before fixing his eyes on a singular brazen soul near an exchange terminal seated on a stool who decided not to crouch and take cover. The masked man reacted as if locked on target and accepting the challenge, making his way over to the man with inexplicable bravery.

"This is a stock exchange, there's no money you can steal," the brave soul barked out.

"Really?" the masked man wheezed. "Then why are you people here?" The voice of the masked man came out gravelly and mechanically amplified, the accent peculiar and hard to decipher.

The masked man lifted a gloved hand to the man's ID clipped to his chest as he said this, reading the contents quickly before grabbing him by the collar and rolling him along behind him as they made their way to another trading desk, giving the stool a strong shove with his foot.

When the man collided into the trading desk, the masked man viciously grabbed his head and knocked it into the table. Myra winced at the ferocity of the masked man's actions, turning away but quickly turning back with morbid curiosity. One of his henchmen appeared with a laptop while the masked man inserted his card into the terminal. The masked man turned around and strolled around lazily as if to appraise his reign of terror.

The faint sound of approaching sirens could be heard outside, indicating the inevitable arrival of the Gotham police. When their sirens grew louder and louder and finally stopped, it was obvious that there must have been dozens of police vehicles outside ready to react to the attempted heist. Myra had no idea why they would even try and make an attempt on the exchange, given the fact that there wasn't going to be an escape considering the police presence. _What are they even stealing...? They can't get away with it...fools..._

The henchman turned towards the masked man.

"They cut the fiber," he said with reluctance before checking his monitor. "Cells working."

The masked man was pacing around the floor with his gloved fingers lightly entwined, before nodding.

"For now," the masked man said thoughtfully. He continued to pace for a brief moment before gazing upwards.

"How much longer does the program need?" he said with a thick sense of assertiveness.

The henchman looked at his monitor, before turning towards the masked man with a look of resignation.

"Eight minutes," he said.

The masked man turned around and lifted a hand to indicate for his men to gather up their things and to ready for their escape.

"Time to go mobile," was all he said, before another henchman ordered everyone up from the ground and shooting into the air to prove their point and to inspire haste.

Under the instruction of John Daggett, Bane and his men were to invade the Gotham Stock Exchange in order to make a series of bad trades under Bruce Wayne's name to force Wayne Enterprises into bankruptcy, with the help of Selina Kyle who was able to provide Bruce Wayne's fingerprints. Bane was an excellent strategist, thinking of all scenarios and possibilities including making sure various cement trucks were manned at various locations outside the exchange to prevent proper police barricading.

One additional scenario that Bane predicted would undoubtedly happen during the heist was the event that several of his men would get captured during police pursuit. He only brought men that were absolutely loyal to a fault and wouldn't speak to the police when in custody. Despite this, Bane had every intention of retrieving them from the police as soon as possible since although he had many men under his command, there were only a handful of whom he could faithfully rely on and were fully devoted to him and his cause.

Bane's plan of retrieving his captured men was to be through a coordinated hostage exchange with the help of John Daggett, who had identified several of his employees as appropriate hostages. He had indicated that individuals wearing the brown trading blazer in 'the pit' were employees of his, and they would be appropriate targets. This was necessary for Bane to know, because it was his intention for John Daggett to use his influence pressure the police into a coordinated hostage exchange with the police for his own employees as well as being able to provide intel to Bane on the police's movements regarding the hostages. In order to not draw attention to the fact that Bane only chose individuals with the brown blazer, he also would choose hostages wearing different colored blazers to be used as body shields upon Bane and his men's escape.

Bane appeared to choose his hostage victims based on a whim, as if he were deciding a new paint color for his house.

"You, and…"

Bane's eyes settled on Myra's blue-gray eyes before they traveled down to her brown blazer. _Please...please...don't pick me. If there is a God, please...don't let them pick me... _Myra quickly averted her gaze but not before catching sight of his gloved pointed finger aiming in her direction, her heart plummeting in her chest and her lungs constricting from fear.

"And you."

Myra was hoisted up by his men, her hands bound and placed on the back of the bike of one of the henchmen. She was lucky in that she was allowed to sit forward, but when she looked to her side she saw her boss being positioned so that he was facing backwards with nothing to lean or hold onto. She gave him a frightened look, hoping he would turn towards her and offer her a look of comfort or support but all he did was look around frantically as if he were about to piss himself.

The other victims that were to be used as body shields were put on their appropriate motorcycle, the masked man's men mounting up before ordering everyone else within the exchange to slowly exit the building with the hands up. The masked man snatched his helmet from a frightened novice floor trader, not failing to issue a somewhat polite "Thank you" to the man holding his helmet before walking to his own motorcycle and mounting up.

The throng of people pushed forward, bottlenecking at the exit to the exchange. When about half of them were fully exited from the building, Bane and his men revved the engines of their motorcycles and surged forward through the crowd, uncaring if they injured anyone by striking them with their motorcycles. People screamed and pushed out of the way to avoid getting run over as Bane and his men buzzed past them. As the motorcycles exited, they immediately turned and used the police barricade ramps to make their escape. The police were obviously flustered, but quickly began their pursuit.

Myra had been screaming during the whole ordeal, using her cuffed hands to clutch the back of the jacket of the man who was driving the motorcycle. Her legs were shaking, and she felt her voice become hoarse from the screaming.

Bane and his men eventually led them to a darkened tunnel, where they eventually came to a a partial stop. When the motorcycles were fully stopped, as if pausing to turn around and observe the chase behind them, Myra turned to her right and saw her boss scramble off of the bike abruptly and make a run for it before anyone could react. This left Myra feeling utterly abandoned. She contemplated a similar attempt at hoisting herself off her bike, but her driver made the same observation that she did and revved his clutch on the motorcycle, propelling themselves forward before she could similarly react and jump off.

Bane rode up alongside them and pointed for her driver to exit down into the parking complex to elude the police. Myra's motorcycle and Bane's split off from each other, both making their way to a different entrance to the parking garage. They made their way down a ramp, and down another ramp, and then another until Myra lost count. She assumed they reached the very bottom of the basement parking complex. She observed the parking garage was abandoned with debris, garbage, and clutter strewn everywhere. They idled for several moments on their motorcycle before she saw the masked man make his way towards them on his motorcycle, his hostage clearly abandoned. This gave Myra a moderate level of hope. _Maybe they will let me go too..?_ He motioned her driver to follow him as they drove and then parked in front of a closed utility closet. Myra's heart plummeted, fear making it difficult to breath as she contemplated the ominous insinuations of them stopping in front of a utility closet. Bane unseated himself from his motorcycle, as did her driver. Her driver grabbed her by the arm and practically dragged her from her seat, making their way to the utility closet.

Myra's sense of self-preservation went into high alert as they lead her to the utility closet. She made the assumption they were taking her to a remote location to either rape or kill her. She began thrashing about and screaming, trying to pull away from the man who held her. Bane took control of the situation by grabbing her by the arm aggressively, shaking her firmly before glaring down at her.

"We aren't going to hurt you unless you give us reason to. While we had intended for at least 2 hostages, one hostage will suffice. You will enjoy yourself here in the meantime. Consider yourself my guest," the masked man said with a note of threatening tease.

It wasn't lost on Myra his use of the word 'we' collectively, and the transition to 'my' to assert authority. Bane opened the door to the utility closet, pushing her in with a shove. The utility closet was roughly a 6'x6' room with several sleeping bags in one corner, a bucket covered with a rag with a half roll of toilet paper set beside it in another corner. Myra narrowed her eyes, seeing that this plan to bring back a hostage was all highly planned and orchestrated.

Bane gave the room a look over before giving a nod as if in approval and then turned to her.

"Be thankful for your sake we didn't have additional hostages," Bane eyed her for a moment, his brows furrowed. "What's your name so that we may begin coordinating the hostage exchange?"

Myra stared back at him with a startled expression.

"Myra. Myra Bell," she said in a rush.

Bane gave her a nod in affirmation, pleased with the ease in which she provided this information.

"Very well, Ms. Bell. Enjoy your night," he said pleasantly, though Myra still didn't feel the situation warranted being described as 'pleasant'.

With that, Bane turned and shut the door with a click indicating that it was being locked externally. Myra rushed to the door to double-check that it was, indeed, locked, and pondered what he meant about being thankful that there weren't additional hostages. She turned back to look at her tiny room, realization spreading across her face. She concluded that what he meant was that they were intending to fit all of the hostages in this tiny room together, but now it's just her. She flicked her eyes to the bucket with the toilet paper, and grimaced.

* * *

After Bane had deposited Myra in her holding room, he made his way to Daggett's personal penthouse where a contingent of his men were waiting for him. His plan was to update Daggett on the Gotham Stock Exchange 'heist' as well as the capture of one of his employees as a hostage so that Daggett could begin coordinating with the police and pressuring them into a deal to exchange Bane's men for Daggett's hostage employee.

When he got to Daggett's penthouse, however, there was a mild level of chaos. Apparently, Selena Kyle had been jilted by Daggett's false promises of a clean slate program that she had hoped to trade for the finger prints that Bane had used for the Gotham Stock Exchange heist. In addition, the Batman had made an appearance and appeared to be aiding Selena Kyle in her escape attempt on the roof, obviously outmatched and outnumbered by Bane's men who were slowly encircling her, ready to strike. Bane caught the trail end of the confrontation, seeing Selena Kyle and the Batman running towards the far side of the roof from the door which Bane entered the roof from after disarming and knocking down his men. Once they made their way to the edge, the Batman jumped off. Selena Kyle was more reluctant, crouching down and looking back as if gauging her chances of survival between jumping off the roof and confronting Bane and his men. She chose the latter, following Batman off the roof with a hop.

Bane sauntered towards the edge of the roof where they made their jump, his hands clutching the straps of his vest as he approached the ledge. As he peered down, almost expecting lifeless bodies on the street or perhaps even Selena Kyle and the Batman grappling against a rope, a large personal militaristic plane with hovering capabilities rose up vertically, flashing its high-powered lights at Bane and the surface area of the roof before zipping off into the night, obviously harboring the Batman and Selena Kyle. Bane simply observed passively as if he were bird watching.

After watching the flying object disappear into the night, Bane turned towards the frazzled and huffy John Daggett, reacting to the abuse he received from Selena Kyle. Bane stood in front of Daggett, watching him make a spectacle of being disheveled, irritated, and out of breath. Bane said nothing but only stared, and after several moments of Daggett's behavior and even looking up to see Bane staring down at him, Daggett calmed down knowing he wasn't going to get any sympathy from Bane over the ordeal.

"What happened?" Bane inquired.

"That bitch attacked me. She was trying to find the clean slate program, which we obviously don't have," Daggett said with still a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Bane regarded him, giving a nod.

"Leave her to me," Bane said thoughtfully.

Several moments passed before he proceeded on to the next topic on the agenda.

"The 'heist' is complete. We were also successful in capturing one of your Daggett Industries stock employees. We have her in custody now. It's now up to you to use your persuasion with the police. I expect you will keep me informed of any developments regarding the police in this matter?" Bane questioned laced with a hint of threat.

The look that Bane gave John Daggett indicated he wasn't going to accept any other answer other than 'Yes, of course'.

Daggett slowly began to nod, his eyes searching as if calculating the situation. He looked back to Bane, his eyebrows raised.

"You only have one? I thought the plan was for two at least? How many of your men were captured?" Daggett whined.

Bane returned his gaze, his eyebrows furrowing just slightly in irritation. He took a slight step towards Daggett, as if challenging him.

"One of your employees managed to get away, leaving us with only one," Bane explained in a mildly irritated tone.

Bane turned his head off to the side and looked back over his shoulder at Barsad, his second-in-command. Barsad knew what information Bane wanted without even asking.

"Two captured, sir," Barsad replied quickly and quietly.

Bane turned back to Daggett.

"Two of my men were captured in the ordeal. I hope this won't be a problem for you?" Bane asked, his voice rising just slightly with a subtle note of threat intertwined in his words.

Daggett only stared back at him, processing the information. Of course it would be difficult to coordinate a hostage exchange with the police involving two of Bane's men for only one hostage. He swallowed nervously, trying not to let his anxiety show. He nodded after several moments.

"I can do it," he said with questionable confidence.

"Excellent," Bane barked before turning around and exiting Daggett's roof, his men in tow.

Before Bane fully exited the roof, and after Daggett had time to internally process and play out possible scenarios of the situation, he called after Bane.

"It would be more compelling if there was video evidence of her in captivity," Daggett said loudly with a hint of slime in his voice.

"That can be arranged," Bane nodded with a reply, continuing towards the exit without turning around.

* * *

Bane and his men had set up their base in the underground maze of the water outflow systems below Gotham City. The following morning, after the Gotham Stock Exchange ordeal as well as the verbal exchange with John Daggett, Bane instructed Barsad to prepare for the video that Daggett requested while Bane went and handled another internal logistics matter.

Bane retrieved Barsad once his personal affairs were in order. They made their way down a considerable length of passage in the underground outflow systems before coming to a rusty metal vertical ladder that led to a manhole. They both climbed it, pushing aside the manhole as they made it to the top. Once out, it was only a few steps to the underground garage that Myra was kept. They made sure they weren't seen as they made their way out of the manhole and into the building, it most undoubtedly being a very suspicious spectacle.

Barsad carried a tripod and a cheap home video camera in a bag over his shoulder as they walked down the abandoned underground parking lot. When they got to the door, then opened it and was greeted by a very startled Myra crouched and hunched in the corner, her eyes clearly illustrating her fright and lack of sleep. She had bangs under her eyes after assumedly staying up all night half-expecting someone to enter her room at any second and kill or assault her.

Barsad set the bag and the tripod down before walking over to the human waste bucket unabashedly, picking it up and exiting the room to dispose of the contents. This left Bane and Myra alone. Myra watched Barsad's back as he left, and then snapped back to Bane. Bane simply regarded her. Bane waved a hand at her passively, trying to make his body appear relaxed to indicate he meant no ill will towards her.

"We are going to be capturing a video of you to indicate your state of captivity. We won't harm you unless you give us reason to," Bane said matter-of-factly.

Despite this masked man in front of her being the whole reason she was in this current predicament as a hostage, the polite tone he used as well as the level of sincerity he implemented into his tone convinced her, and she unabashedly believed him. Her initial first impression of him also started to shift from "Big dumb brute, ME SMASH!" to something else. His accent was peculiar, his tone was authoritative, but it also masked a level of intelligence that she saw seeping through with his choice of verbiage and sentence delivery. She simply nodded in reply, slowly rising to her feet, pushing her back against the wall for leverage as she did so.

Bane nodded, pleased that this situation wasn't going to be more difficult than needed.

"Good," he said curtly, as Barsad came back in with a cleaned-out-bucket before motioning for Barsad to set up the video equipment.

Once the equipment was properly arranged, he pointed to the floor in the center of the room for Myra to sit, up against the wall. She complied moving to the designated spot, sitting down and bringing her knees up to chest, staring at directly at the camera. Barsad turned the camera on.

"What is your name?" Bane asked her from behind the camera.

"Myra Bell," Myra said shyly.

"Why are you here, Ms. Bell?" Bane inquired.

"I'm being held hostage. I was taken from the Gotham Stock Exchange," Myra proceeded, her voice hitching slightly.

Bane continued.

"Who is your employer?" he asked.

Myra had to take a second to consider the question as if caught unawares, before answering Bane.

"John Daggett. Daggett Industries," she said, directing her voice to the camera.

Bane nodded from behind the camera, before making one final statement to the camera.

"The police have in their possession two of my men. I require their release in exchange for Myra Bell. Consider her life forfeit if you do not comply."

With that, Bane turned off the camera.

Myra looked around awkwardly, processing the insinuation that she might possibly die if the police don't follow through with the masked man's demands. She felt conflicted internally because moments earlier, he had promised that he wouldn't hurt her – and she believed him.

Bane picked up on the concerned expression spreading across her face before letting his hand wave at her as if he were wiping chalk from a chalkboard.

"Fear not, I have faith in the Gotham Police's integrity and their correct handling of this matter. I don't anticipate you being here for more than a few days," Bane said in a bored tone.

Myra let her eyes wander back to his as he made this declaration, her mind easing considerably. She relaxed her shoulders and let them drop, bringing her hands to her knee caps and rubbing them idly before using them to leverage herself up into a standing position. She leaned back against the wall, watching the two men pack up and make their exit. Bane turned back and regarded her briefly, seeing the tired expression still written across her face. "Someone will be down later with food", as if giving her a fair warning that someone will be entering her room. With that, he shut the door and locked it.

* * *

The man that brought her food several hours later was neither Barsad nor Bane, and when he opened the door and looked around it was obvious he hadn't seen the hostage set-up yet. He turned to look at Myra with curiosity, a grin spreading across his face. It made Myra uncomfortable. She sat in the corner as he walked in, bent down and put the plate of food on the ground before straightening his back and looking at her as if expecting a 'thank you'. All she did was stare back at him. He gave her a smirk, slowly turning around before exiting.

Myra looked at the plate of food which consisted of some mashed potatoes that looked like they were prepared from a large giant pot, some pathetic looking small baby carrots, a red apple with bruises all over it, and a cheese sandwich. She grimaced but ate the cheese sandwich hungrily, not having eaten since the day before. She ate the rest of the food more hesitantly, noting the lack of food utensils to eat the mashed potatoes. She smooshed them together with her fingertips instead and fed them into her mouth like a cave troll.

After Myra was finished with her meal, she placed the plate by the door. She went to the two sleeping bags on the floor and curled up inside them like a caterpillar in a cocoon. She wasn't tired but chose to attempt at sleep out of sheer boredom. She made a habit of laying nestled in the sleeping bag and idly counting the little crater imperfections in the cement walls. She would repeat the process once she made it all the way around the room, or until she fell asleep. When she woke up, she would get out of her sleeping bag and stretch, pace around the room and then resume her spot in the sleeping bag before counting the small indentations in the cement wall again. Her mind did wander periodically to the intent and purpose of the 'heist' that she witnessed, as well as those involved, but she couldn't fathom why anyone would willingly (and successfully) rob a stock exchange on top of taking hostages. Their plan wasn't flippant either; it had been orchestrated, because Myra knew fingerprints were used to access information in the trading desk. She felt like even doing that would be futile depending on who they 'stole' from, because that individual could just declare fraud and eventually have their funds redistributed back into their account. It confused her, and it was a puzzle she couldn't work out.

This routine of sleeping, pacing, being brought a basic plate of food, thinking about her captors and what their intent was went on for 1, 2, 3, and finally 4 days. She never saw Bane or Barsad during that time, but saw the same individual bringing her the food. Each time he seemed somewhat more adventurous in his attempts to draw her attention to him and get her to say something to him. She didn't humor him, and she could tell it made him mildly upset. She wondered if he spat in her food before he brought it to her. Her mind was also slowly spiraling into irritability as boredom pounded at the edges of her consciousness. She needed something to do or she felt herself ready to pop, particularly since she had been told convincingly that she would only be confined for several days. She felt that she had been in the utility closet room for much longer than a few days.

* * *

Bane was acutely aware of how many days had passed since Myra was initially brought in as a hostage and went to give John Daggett a visit to amplify pressure for him to get the situation resolved quickly, not caring or desiring to have a hostage holed up under his care. When he confronted Daggett about it, Daggett seemed flustered and ready to deflect blame onto the police.

"They aren't too happy about the two-for-one deal…I'm pressuring them as much as I can but they are dragging their feet. There is nothing I can do!" Daggett said with frustration.

Bane regarded him, his fists clutched against the collar of his jacket.

"Certainly, there are things you can do to accelerate this situation," Bane said with a threatening undertone.

Daggett didn't like to be tested or challenged from an authoritative level, so he glared back at Bane after finding courage.

"I'm doing what I can. I'll let you know if there is an update," Daggett said irritably.

Bane stared at him, not speaking. He gave Daggett a visual look-over, before turning to exit with the men that had escorted him to Daggett's penthouse. They returned back to their base in the underground water reflow system.

* * *

This new indeterminant amount of time concerning how long he was to keep the hostage meant Bane had to rework some aspects of his plan and schedule, which he was less than thrilled to do. He knew what it was like to be in solitary confinement in a small room with nothing to do or to keep the mind occupied. Although he didn't know Myra, he wouldn't wish that kind of isolation on his worst enemy. He decided he would need to accommodate her situation so that she was a bit more comfortable since her stay now seemed to be for an undetermined amount of time.

He resorted to alternating between himself and Barsad with visiting Myra, not trusting anyone else to engage in prolonged visits with her for her own safety. The visits consisted of simply things like playing cards, board games, and chatting idly; things he did with his own men when they were out deployed on a mission in an isolated region with nothing to do. He also provided her with reading material for when she was by herself. He noticed she plowed through the books he gave her almost as fast as he delivered them.

During these visits, Myra had been able to learn a great deal about Bane through Barsad, though she knew the information was inconsequential and couldn't be used against him when she made her eventual way back to safety in police custody.

"What's your boss's name?" Myra asked Barsad as she flipped her playing card over on the small fold-out table that was brought in for their card game, she seated in a cheap fold-out chair.

Barsad lifted his eyebrows as if in shock and amusement and gave her a look as if she were an idiot with his signature lazy eyes.

"Bane," he said simply.

Up to that point, Myra had simply referred to Bane internally as 'masked man spider-face'. She paused briefly, letting her eyebrows scrunch together as if contemplating that name.

"Bane? _Bane?**" **_she asked incredulously, as if she didn't believe it.

Barsad let his eyes drop to his cards, bored with the question and simply nodding.

"Where did he come up with that?" Myra asked, curiosity thick in her voice.

"You'll have to ask him," Barsad said simply, before plucking a card from his hand and exchanging it for one on the table.

Myra narrowed her eyes at him, knowing he must have known the answer but was withholding the information from her for whatever reason.

* * *

The next day, when it was Bane's turn to entertain her with whatever game he chose, Myra asked him without hesitation.

"Where did you get your name, 'Bane'?" she asked, getting right to the point and before Bane could even begin shuffling the deck of cards.

Bane let his eyebrows raise in surprise, letting them lift to look at her as if trying to determine why she was even asking. When she simply started back at him, he shrugged his shoulders as if he were indifferent with the answer.

"My mother named me," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Myra stared at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as if he were jesting with her. When she saw that his face didn't shift from the look of boredom and instead idly focused on shuffling and distributing cards, she continued.

"What? Really? Why did she name you _'Bane',"_ Myra asked incredulously.

Bane finished distributing the cards, picking up his own and looking at them with the continued bored expression.

"She named me so because I was the bane of her existence," Bane said simply, emotionless, his focus on his cards.

Myra stared at him, waiting for him to slap his knee as if he were telling a great joke, but knew she wasn't going to get that kind of reaction from him based on her previous incorrect assumption that he was pulling her tail.

"That's terrible," Myra said sadly.

"I was born in a prison. I can hardly blame her," Bane said as if defending her, turning over one of the playing cards.

"What happened to her?" Myra asked.

"She died when I was young. Some fellow prisoners raped and killed her," Bane said. He could just as easily have been talking about what color the sky was.

This shocked and appalled Myra, who froze while in the middle of turning a card over.

"I'm sorry…that's awful." She didn't know what else to say.

"The world can be an awful place," Bane replied matter-of-factly, emotionlessly, before turning over another card and continued on with the game.

* * *

The next time Myra was with Bane, she ventured out of her comfort zone and engaged in a somewhat controversial topic with him.

"Gotham seems to attract a lot of attention from unsavory individuals," Myra said.

Myra let her eyes peak at him suggestively as she said this before looking back down at her cards.

Bane seemed to find her statement mildly amusing.

"I'm unsavory?" he asked as if he were wounded from her insinuation.

Myra eyed him for several seconds, letting her eyes roam from the top of his shiny head, over his mask that looked like a mechanical spider, and down over his body which was undoubtedly muscular. He wasn't necessarily the most approachable looking guy. In fact, she remembers being outright terrified of him when she first saw him at the Gotham Stock Exchange.

"Ehh….I'm not sure I would categorize you as 'savory', necessarily," Myra said as if she were trying to be polite.

"Well, we'll have to change that mindset of yours," Bane said in mild jest, though she caught a serious undertone in his statement that gave her goosebumps.

Myra didn't respond, letting his statement settle in the air between them as they played their card game. Bane, surprisingly, decided to break the silence.

"If Gotham has such an unappealing feature, then why do you live here?" Bane asked.

Myra rose her eyes up from her cards, which she was idly adjusting in her hand.

"I moved here for college. I wasn't sure if I wanted to stay here, but when Daggett Industries offered me an internship I felt like that helped me make up my mind," she said idly, in an almost bored tone.

Bane just acknowledged her with a silent nod as he placed a card down on the table.

"Do you think it is possible that Gotham attracts these individuals because it isn't as innocent as you may believe? That it harbors individuals that must be punished? That it needs to be allowed to burn so that it can be allowed to grow anew?" Bane questioned.

Myra thought about what he said for a few moments.

"I feel like it would be pretty difficult to pull off what you are implying without killing innocent people," Myra replied.

"Perhaps it's those 'innocent people' that allowed Gotham to get in the state of decay that its in? Shouldn't they be punished?" Bane said with slight vigor.

"Children should be punished?" Myra said incredulously.

Bane observed her, knowing her stance on the matter was going to be unwavering regarding this topic. He let out a shrug after several moments of reflection, knowing he should appreciate her conviction if nothing else. After several moments, Myra asked the question that was burning on her mind.

"What are _you _doing in Gotham? Are you planning on burning it down?" Myra asked with slight sarcasm.

"Burning it down? No," Bane said simply.

Myra wasn't sure why, but his answer unsettled her. She shifted in her weight in her seat.

"Then what? Why am I even here? Who's money did you steal at the Gotham Exchange? What do you intend to do with it?" Myra let the floodgate of questions burst out.

Bane put his cards down on the table with a sigh before getting up from his seat.

"I believe we are done here," he said. He turned around and left the room before properly addressing Myra's slew of questions. Myra simply let out a sigh.

* * *

A handful of days later, Myra started to wonder when she was going to be released. It had now been two weeks, and Bane had indicated he had only expected a few days to go by before some level of action was taken for the exchange. Her curiosity finally piqued.

"When will I be let go?" she asked hesitantly.

Bane was in the middle of rearranging the cards in his hand, and briefly looked up at her before returning to focus on his cards.

"Things aren't going according to plan," was all Bane said.

Myra's face dropped at his response, feeling somewhat responsible for the delay in moving forward with the exchange. She let her guilt seep through with a statement after giving out a deep sigh.

"Well, you couldn't have picked a worse hostage. I doubt there is anyone advocating for my release. Maybe my boss, but I've only been working for a few weeks so….." She let her voice trail off as she let her eyes refocus on her cards.

Bane lifted his eyes suddenly at her remark about her boss advocating for her, almost reflexively wondering if she had knowledge of John Daggett leveraging the police into an exchange. He wrote that idea off as ridiculous, however, and then simply stared at her.

"What?" he asked in a somewhat affronted tone.

Bane's tone startled Myra, who realized it was perhaps a mistake to indicate she was basically worthless as a hostage since no one would want to pay for her ransom nor would they put up a sob story about their dear daughter missing and how they want her back as soon as possible. She quickly backpedaled, swallowing nervously.

"I only meant that I don't have any family or relatives who would vouch for me. I'm pretty sure Daggett Industries has hostage insurance, so if its money you're after…" She had no idea if Daggett Industries had hostage insurance. She was hoping he wouldn't see through her bluff.

Bane, of course, was not after money so he wrote her comment off. He simply regarded the information she gave him as one additional bit of information he knew about Myra Bell.

"Are they deceased?" Bane asked out of mild curiosity and politeness.

Myra worked her lips into a line before letting them fidget as she thought about an answer.

"Car crash when I was little. My brother, mom, and dad died. I got to walk away with a scar on my forehead and on my back," she said as if she were trying to sound grateful but having difficulty.

Bane's eyes darted to her forehead for physical evidence of her claim and saw between two strands of her ash-blonde bangs a discolored bumpy patch of skin that was obviously the scar. He stared at it for several seconds before letting his attention drift back down to his cards.

"Scars are reminders of what we have endured and overcame," Bane said thoughtfully as he shifted the cards in his hand, placing one down on the table.

Myra's eyes rose to look at him questioningly before they traveled over any uncovered skin on his body that may indicate scar tissue. He had a scar on the side of his head, as well as a very large scar at the base of his neck that stretched down into his shirt. She wasn't sure how far it stretched down, but assumed it probably stretched the length of his spine. She wanted to ask him about his scars but was interrupted by him placing his full card hand on the table in victory and stood up abruptly. He left the cards on the table for Myra to clean up, pushing himself up off of the cheap plastic fold-out chair that looked like it was on the verge of collapsing from his weight. He exited the room, turning towards her curtly.

"Until next time," he said.

Then he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

**_Author: I want to thank Raisa for commenting on my story! I really appreciate you letting me know that there is someone out there reading and enjoying it! _**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie._**

* * *

Myra's routine was similar for another few days with little to no excitement, except for one particular encounter with the man that brought her food. The general routine was for him to bring the food in, place it down, make some level of effort to attract her attention or for her to talk to him, and then leave. However, this day he must have felt emboldened, because he didn't leave. He idled. He even picked up the cards from the fold-out card table, thumbing them around and making a mess. She wondered if he was drunk. She stayed in the corner and let him slide sluggishly around the room before he approached her. He startled her when he dropped his weight forward to slam his palm next to her head, the weight of his body now supported by his palm. This also allowed him to lean forward towards her face, inches away. She tried to smell alcohol on his breath, but didn't, and simply deemed him to be a massive idiot. She tried to focus on this thought instead of the fear that was slowly rising up her chest and gripping her spine.

As he inched forward, she tried sliding away from him, letting her eyes dart towards the door that hung open. He must have been prepared for her to make a dash, for when she bolted, he grabbed her arm and eased her back into the wall.

"Tsk tsk, not so fast sweetheart," he said.

Her eyes narrowed. She _hated _being called sweetheart. She hated being touched by a disgusting creep even worse.

Her unease and fear were short-lived, however. The man was leaning into her as if to either eat her face or take in her scent when a shadow suddenly consumed both of them. Bane stood just inside the doorway, the light at his back, casting his massive shadow over them like a blanket. The look Bane had on his face was one of surprise at first, seeing Myra up against the wall cringing away from the man he had tasked with bringing her food. It immediately transitioned into anger. Bane looked at Myra's eyes and saw relief that was almost palpable flood across her face as she saw him enter.

Bane stepped towards them, but the man that was intimidating Myra was already slinking away, keeping a wide berth of Bane (which was difficult considering the size of the room, and the size of Bane).

"Get out," Bane barked at the man, who hurried his steps after being given the verbal warning.

Bane watched him as he exited, and then turned back towards Myra. She let out a massive sigh from her chest, slumping back against the wall as if she just trekked up a thousand flight of stairs. She even closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the cement wall before bringing it forward again after she had regained her composure, her eyes settling on Bane with the look of relief still consuming her face. Bane inched closer to her; concern intermingled with anger on his face.

"Did he hurt you?" Bane demanded, letting his eyes roam over her as he said this.

Myra clutched her hands together awkwardly before shaking her head in earnest.

"No he didn't, thank you," she breathed out. _Why are you thanking him. He's the reason you're here. _

Myra allowed herself to ponder her internal thoughts for a moment before finding an answer. _Because he doesn't 'need' to do anything; he could have let that creep do what he wanted with me. He didn't 'need' to intervene. He did because…because why? _Myra struggled with the 'why', not expecting to find a distorted sense of chivalry and politeness in the person who held her hostage. It made her extremely confused and slightly uncomfortable to be having positive feelings associations with her captor. She was even more confused about the feeling of safety she felt when she saw Bane and was around him, knowing subconsciously that he was responsible for putting her in an unsafe situation; her mind didn't seem to care about that sordid detail.

Bane regarded her for a moment, perhaps equally surprised at hearing a 'thank you' from his hostage. Bane wasn't one to ignore politeness, however.

"You're welcome," he replied thoughtfully, letting his eyes search hers for several more moments before he moved towards the fold-out card table.

"I believe it would be fair to allow you to choose our activity this evening," Bane stated as he sat down into a chair, nearly collapsing it from his weight.

Myra was once again startled and confused, never having been given the option on what their activity would be; she was only ever grateful that there 'was' an activity. She appreciated that Bane and Barsad took the few minutes to even come down here and keep her entertained for a short period of time, knowing she could easily be perceived as 'just a hostage' without much care taken into her mental wellbeing or boredom. Myra had to think for a moment, letting her mind shift through the options in her mind.

"Can we play a board game?" she asked timidly. She hadn't played a board game with Bane yet; it was always cards. Barsad was the more adventurous laid-back of the pair who seemed to enjoy breaking up the monotony of the activities he engaged in with Myra, more so than Bane who probably had a preference for something quick and easy and could be finished at a moment's notice.

Bane looked up from the stack of cards that were already in his hand, ready to shuffle. He put them down before giving a nod.

"Which board game would you prefer? You may have to explain the rules; I don't take part in board games often," Bane said with mild reluctance.

Myra let herself smile as she hurried over to the stack of old board games that had been next to the fold-out table. She rummaged through them trying to locate one with the least number of missing pieces.

"SCRABBLE!" Myra shouted with enthusiasm, yanking the game from under a stack which resulted in a few of the old shabby board game boxes to topple over into a mess. She didn't care.

Bane observed her as she laid the game down onto the table, opening the box and taking out the tile racks and the fold-out cardboard game board. The wooden tiles were strewn recklessly in the box. She observed that there seemed to be some missing but decided it didn't really matter. She began to mix the tiles up and turn them face-down.

"Have you played Scrabble?" Myra asked with mild enthusiasm.

Bane was watching her as she set the game up with curiosity, shaking his head at her question.

"No," he said simply.

Myra finished turning the tiles face-down, putting one of the tile racks in front of him.

"It's pretty simple; you form words with your word tiles and count up the points. A double or triple letter word or word space will give you more points. The person with the most points at the end wins!" Myra exclaimed, excited to be playing Scrabble with someone who hadn't played before. She picked out seven tiles for herself and seven for Bane, indicating for him to put them in his tile rack. "You get to pick up new tiles after you use up the ones on that rack there," Myra continued.

Bane simply nodded, absorbing the information he gave her.

"I'll start," Myra finished, placing the first word on the board.

It wasn't long before the game was eventually over. It is safe to say that Bane absolutely destroyed her.

Myra fancied herself a formidable Scrabble player. That was, until she played with Bane. He was coming up with words she hadn't even heard of.

"What? Brux? What the heck is _brux_? Is that even a _word? _You're making it up. You can't play it unless you actually know what it means," Myra argued, clearly annoyed.

"It certainly is," Bane's voice said with slight inflection as he defended himself. "It means to clench and grind the teeth," he explained, making (what Myra assumed) were chomping and grinding motions with his teeth for emphasis. All she heard was the sound; she couldn't actually see him perform these actions since his mask obscured his face.

Myra stared at him with an unimpressed expression.

"…you are making me clench and grind my teeth," she mumbled.

Bane simply stared at her, his eyebrows rising as if he were waiting for her to come up with more arbitrary rules.

"You should only be allowed to play words that I know," Myra quipped.

"Then I would hardly be able to play any words," Bane teased.

"That's rude," Myra said, although she had a hard time restraining herself from smiling at his well-played insult. Before she knew it, she started laughing for several seconds before stopping herself. It started so abruptly, it startled her. She realized that was also the first time in days, _weeks_, since she genuinely smiled or laughed at something. Perhaps even well before she was even taken hostage.

"That was funny," she finally confessed.

"What was?" Bane asked curiously.

"Your joke," Myra said, a smile still on her face.

"I told a joke?" Bane asked seriously.

Myra's smile faltered as she slammed her hands on the table and lifted her eyes to give him a huge stink eye. Her eyes softened considerably when she saw something she hadn't seen before on his face; deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes. She realized he must be smiling under the mask. She couldn't see his face since it was deeply obscured by the contraption that covered it, but the crow's feet and scrunching of skin on either corner of his eyes were unmistakably human characteristics of a smile. It was contagious, because she started smiling again.

"Didn't you grow up in a prison? Shouldn't you be a little more….?" Myra started to question; she wasn't sure how to finish the sentence but let her eyes narrow at the implications of her question. _Dense_, _stupid, _she thought inwardly. She felt emboldened and retaliatory over the tease he delivered her.

Bane replied without missing a beat.

"The options in prison were either reading or fighting. Besides, didn't you grow up in a privileged household with proper education? Shouldn't you be a little bit more…..?" Bane retorted.

Myra stared back at Bane with an air of being offended, but in reality, she was impressed.

"Touché," she finally replied.

Myra started to wonder where his well of knowledge was coming from. She let her eyes roam from his eyes up his forehead and finally to his bald head as if she were staring directly into his brain and seeing rows and rows of 'knowledge'.

"Alright. I concede, you win," Myra finally said after tallying up the score. She didn't want to show Bane the score; his score was almost triple what hers was.

"Let's play Scrabble again; that game was admittedly quite enjoyable," Bane mused, surprising Myra by willingly prolonging his stay.

She nodded with a smile, taking the tiles off of the board and reshuffling them. She already knew he was going to win even before she started distributing the tiles.

The second time around, he went easy on her and only beat her by twice her score. She also had a sneaking suspicion that he was internally keeping track of the score without the use of the piece of paper and chubby pencil nub she was using that came with the contents of the game box.

* * *

"How long have you been following Bane?" Myra asked Barsad the following day.

Barsad lifted his eyes up at her from the deck of cards in his hand. He simply stared at her, making it obvious he wasn't in the mood to divulge personal information.

Myra sighed dramatically and stretched herself chest-down on the table, blocking him from distributing the cards. "Come _on_, you and Bane are the only people I get to talk to. It's not like I'm asking you to tell me your social security number".

Barsad continued to stare at her as he held the deck of cards in his hand before he gave a sigh.

"Years," was his answer.

"Did you grow up in a prison too?" Myra asked.

Barsad looked up at her, a mild look of startlement crossing his face. Clearly he was surprised she knew 'that bit' of information about Bane. He stared at her skeptically before responding simply.

"No," he said.

"Then where did you grow up?" Myra asked.

"You wouldn't have heard of it," Barsad replied.

"Ooookay….what about Bane? Where does he come from? His accent is very peculiar. I don't think I've ever heard it before."

Again, more staring.

"Why are you even down here if you aren't going to talk? At least _Bane _talks," Myra whined.

"You seem to do enough talking for the both of us," Barsad finally sniped.

Myra let herself smile then at the vague insult Barsad directed at her.

"Perhaps I'm talking because I have to compensate since you are clearly too afraid to talk to me?"

Myra was surprised at how easily Barsad took her bait.

"I'm not afraid to talk to you," he scowled, giving her a look as if measuring her up by her physical prowess.

"You fooled me," Myra said.

Barsad narrowed his eyes at her, his lips working into a line.

"What are you guys anyway? Terrorists? What's your plan?" Myra asked.

Barsad eyed her. "While I'm sure some would think so, we are mercenaries."

Myra rose her brows.

"Oh. I feel like that implies someone is _paying _you then. Paying you for what? Who's paying you? Who's in charge?" Myra rattled off.

This was too much for Barsad. He decided to shut down and keep his lips shut tight.

"Okay, fine. If you can't tell me who you work for, what your goal is, where you're from, then maybe tell me a little bit more about you personally. I'm curious to know what kind of life a mercenary leads. Do you have a wife? Kids?" Myra inquired.

Myra was startled with Barsad's response.

"Yes," he said.

Myra jumped at the small bit of information being fed to her.

"Yes to what? You have a wife? Kids?" she asked in a rush.

Barsad kept his expression passive. "I have a wife."

"You do?! Where is she? Why doesn't she stay with you here?" Myra asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Because it's not safe here," Barsad replied with just the faintest note of sadness in his voice.

That answer took her by surprise. _Not safe 'here'? With Bane's men? _She could understand that, considering the militaristic nature of the men she saw. _Or here in Gotham? _The thought of it not being safe in Gotham seemed ridiculous, considering how well Commissioner Gordan did with cleaning up the streets and reducing the general crime rate.

Her next question flew out of her mouth before she could stop herself, her curiosity making her anxious to know the answer, not even sure _why _she wanted to know the answer.

"Does Bane have a wife too?" she asked somewhat cautiously.

Barsad lifted his eyes at her, letting his eyes roam her face as if he were trying to determine if there was a hidden agenda to her question before answering. Myra didn't realize she was experiencing a moderate level of anticipation for the answer.

"No," Barsad said simply.

Myra let out a sigh, though immediately corrected herself and gave Barsad a look as if she were caught walking on wet cement. Barsad was eyeing her coyly before he put a card down on the table to take a new one from the top of the stack, their game continuing with no further discussion about their personal lives.

* * *

When Bane came back again for his scheduled visit, he was eager to play Scrabble again. He even grabbed the box from the pile of games before she even indicated what her preference for an activity was.

"I don't want to play with you. You're no fun to play with. You always win,", Myra confessed.

Bane looked up from the box in his hands, analyzing her for a moment before speaking.

"I'll give you a handicap; you may double your score at the end of the game," he compromised.

Myra sighed; she couldn't bring herself to say no, enjoying the enthusiasm he was demonstrating at playing a game with her. However, he won by _so much _that it wasn't challenging or fun for her. He was always ready to play a word and acted and responded as if he had his next 10 words all ready to go (which Myra knew was impossible. _Was it though?). _When she sat at her chair looking at her tiles and thinking of words to play, Bane always stared at her as if he were impatient for her to make a move. She decided she needed to take drastic measures. She 'accidentally' stepped on and spilled water over the board the next morning she knew it would be Bane's turn to visit her.

When Bane entered the room and was presented with the ruined box, he stared at it for several moments as if unable to vocalize the grief he felt. Myra felt her chest clench at his saddened expression. He exited the room quickly then without saying another word. He came back approximately an hour later with a brand-new Scrabble board, fresh in plastic packaging with no missing pieces.

"Great," Myra said. She created a monster.

* * *

Another week passed by, though Myra was starting to feel the foul effects of hygiene. During a titillating round of 'Go Fish' with Bane which Myra was able to convince Bane into playing to give their Scrabble fix a break, she decided it would be appropriate to ask for either a shower or a change of clothes considering she had turned her clothes inside out at least twice to avoid the stink of sweat and body odor. Bane appeared as if he hadn't even considered she may have a need for these things but agreed to them albeit reluctantly.

The following day Bane provided her with several fresh pairs of baggy sweat pants, a tank top, women's underwear of various sizes (it was obvious whoever picked them had no clue how to gauge a women's size), and several shirts she could use. He also arranged to have her follow him to the underground water reflow system where he and his men resided. He had her blind-folded when this was done so that she wasn't going to be able to relay information to the police concerning the location of their whereabouts, though Myra doubted the utility of the blindfold considering it seemed pretty obvious they were entering a manhole. She did get lost, however, during their trek down the long echoing tunnels below ground, the sound of water dripping from the ceiling slightly masking their steps.

Bane brought her to a room with a shower, mirror, and pedestal sink with generic shampoo, soap, and a tattered brown towel. He led her inside and provided her privacy by shutting the door and making sure no one entered while she was showering.

"You have 5 minutes," Bane said to her as the door clicked.

When Myra was done showering, changed into a fresh pair of sweat pants, underwear, and a t-shirt with seconds to spare, she paused outside of the door and gave Bane a look to indicate she was ready. Bane grabbed the blind fold that covered her face from his pocket. As he was bringing it down over her eyes to secure it in place, Myra saw across the hall the man that use to bring her food but had since had his services discontinued. He was speaking to several other men and pointed in her general direction, and all three pair of eyes turned in unison to stare at her. Blackness covered her vision as the blindfold was secured over her eyes and she was led back up to her utility closet room in the underground parking garage by Bane, who guided her by holding her upper arm and steering her. Myra didn't feel particularly well after that from the looks the men gave her, despite wearing fresh clothes and her hygiene considerably improved.

Barsad had been watching the exchange idly from a seated position, polishing a gun just outside the door. His astute senses had picked up on the behavior of the three men almost immediately and noted their body language and the insinuations in their gestures. Barsad kept his face passive and disinterested but made a mental note.

* * *

"Can I go for a walk around the garage? Or a run?" Myra asked Barsad, hoping he would be slightly more lenient than Bane. "My legs are getting cramps and I feel like I need to run or something."

Barsad looked at her as if he were strongly considering it before giving a flat "No" for an answer. Myra let her demeanor slump as she settled into the fold-out chair as Barsad set up a checker board, knowing she didn't have the mental capacity to argue her case.

The following day, however, when it was Bane's turn to keep her company, she thought she would try her luck with him anyway.

"Can I go for a walk, jog, or run around the parking garage? My legs are getting cramps," Myra stated mildly, not wanting to sound like she was complaining but merely stating a fact.

Bane gave her a look before his eyes fell to her legs as if he were able to see the cramps pop up through her baggy pants. He looked back up at her. Myra could tell he was internally working things out. He pulled out a phone then, using the text feature to send a message. Myra continued to wait for some type of response, wondering if he got distracted by some other business with his phone.

She got her answer, however, when he stepped away from the entrance to the utility closet and motioned for her with an arm for her to proceed outside. Myra had to withhold herself from jumping up in excitement. As she stepped outside, she saw Barsad rounding the corner and giving her the most unimpressed look she had ever seen on an individual.

"Barsad here will make sure you don't stray too far outside the perimeter I set for you," Bane stated. As he said this, he moved to Myra and grabbed her upper arm to get her attention before raising a hand and pointing it into the far corners of the garage, right before they transitioned into a ramp leading up.

"Don't go past those points. Barsad has my permission to use whatever force necessary to stop you from proceeding to the upper levels of the garage. I wouldn't test him if I were you," Bane said with a slight hint of humor, though Myra couldn't find anything humorous about it.

Myra looked over at Barsad. He wasn't necessarily "seething", but she could tell he wasn't too happy at her successful attempt at convincing Bane to let her outside to have a run and jog, particularly when she had asked Barsad first and he had already said no. On top of that, Barsad was given the extra task of keeping up with her or run after her if she decided to make a run for it or got too close to the perimeter that Bane established.

Myra smiled teasingly at Barsad. _If one parent says no, who says you can't ask the other one?_

"Well, I hope Barsad can keep up with me. They used to call me 'Mad-Dash Myra' back in my track and field days," Myra claimed. No one ever called her that. She was never in track and field. Ever.

Bane and Barsad just stared at her, letting her get her grand proclamations off of her chest. She started to stretch dramatically, making sure she wasn't too tense to properly 'run'. Without another word, she started sprinting away from the pair. She tried sprinting as fast as she could, but it came off more as a slow jog before she finally stopped and starting heaving. She looked to the side and saw Barsad walking alongside her. She wasn't sure if he had followed her into a sprint, or if she was so slow that he simply walked up to her since she hadn't made much clearance in her distance. She straightened her back, resting her hands on her hips and giving a groan.

"Ahhhh….be lucky I'm not as fast as I usually am," Myra sighed. She finally slumped down onto the floor from the mild exertion she experienced, lying face down into the cement in a dramatic gesture.

Barsad simply stared at her antics before his eyes rose up to Bane, who was observing the ordeal with a moderate level of amusement. He started walking towards them, stopping right next to Myra, the toes of his boot inches from her nose.

"What's this? I thought you wanted to have a jog?" Bane teased.

Myra simply groaned, bringing a hand up to rest against her cheek and to use it as a pillow between the cement ground and her skin.

"Being stuck in a closet all day and all night for weeks doesn't necessarily foster cardio development," Myra confessed.

Bane looked down at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You aren't going back into the closet room until you do 50 solid laps around. If you take a break between those 50 laps, you start over."

Myra rolled her head to the side and gave him an expression that indicated she wished a plague upon him and his family. When she didn't move or get up, Bane bent one knee to get closer to her head.

"Do you wish for us to be here all evening?" Bane inquired.

"Yes," Myra confessed.

"If you don't complete the task I have given you in the next 20 minutes, then neither Barsad or I will visit you the following day, or the day after. It's your choice."

With that, Bane stood up and gazed down at her with his arms crossed over his chest.

"The clock is ticking," he said.

Myra hustled to her feet, and without further fuss began jogging around the perimeter. She did pause to catch her breath once, to which she heard Bane shout "Your laps have been reset!" to Myra's dismay. She decided to complete the task at a slower and more moderate pace in hopes of completing it time.

When she finally counted to '50', her body was practically spent and screaming at her to lay down. She complied by dropping to her knees and easing herself forward onto her chest on the ground, her chest rising and falling with the huge breaths that she was taking to accommodate the lack of oxygen her blood felt from the exertion she experienced from the sudden exercise she put it through.

Bane sauntered up to her as she lay prone on ground.

"Feel better?" he asked with a mild hint of humor laced in his voice. Myra didn't respond, not even sure she could respond given how heavy her breathing was. Bane watched her for several more moments, waiting for her to catch her breath and regain her energy.

Several more moments went by as Bane waited for her to get up. Myra was perfectly content resting and possibly even sleeping on the cement.

"Can I just sleep here? I can't get up. I don't think I can feel my legs," Myra begged.

"No," Bane said. Before Myra could respond, she felt a strong hand grab her arm and roll her onto her back roughly. She stared up at Bane, who was crouched down over her and giving her a stern look. Before she could question his motives or exclaim that she needed more time on the ground to recover, he shimmied his arms underneath her knees and under her shoulders and lifted her up off of the ground. Myra gasped at the abruptness of his actions before wrapping an arm casually around his neck for support. She knew he was strong just by looking at him, but feeling his arms supporting her made her hyper aware of how much strength he actually possessed. She felt his muscles pressed against her body, and they were considerably solid. She wanted to describe them as feeling like 'rocks'; but rocks don't feel good against the skin. His 'rocks' did. Her eyes focused on his mask and the faint breathing that came through it. Myra found it extremely soothing and relaxing. She wanted to touch it.

Before she could help herself, she reached out and let her fingertips touch the tip of it. She startled herself at her boldness, her eyebrows raising as if she slapped herself in the face. Bane turned his eyes to look at her, though his eyes didn't indicate any warning that she crossed a boundary she shouldn't cross and should immediately cease her idle hands from touching his mask. They only regarded her with equal curiosity.

Bane brought her back to the utility closet with ease, bending down into the corner where the nest of sleeping bags was before depositing her gently onto them. Myra felt herself become inexplicably disappointed when he set her down. He stood up after completing his task, giving her a nod of approval.

"Your legs will be sore tomorrow. Don't forget to stretch them, or you won't be able to walk for a few days." Before she could reply, he turned and exited the room. Barsad moved to the entrance of the room then, giving her a stern look before he let his lips upturn into a faint smile as if to say, "Serves you right for trying to bypass my authority."

Myra simply glared at him back, though it was superficial. She didn't feel any animosity towards anyone or anything at that moment, her mind idly thinking about 'rocks'.

* * *

The following day as Barsad was methodically polishing another rifle with a toothpick in his mouth, he saw the three men he had observed from the other day that had been focused on Myra. They were huddled together in what seemed like a personal exchange before they sauntered off down the hallway that would eventually lead to a manhole exit. This hallway wasn't commonly used, however, since it only had one manhole to choose from. It was also a manhole that was used to access the underground parking garage. Barsad gave a sigh, spitting his toothpick out and carefully leaning the rifle against the cement wall before standing and making his way to search for Bane.

Meanwhile, Myra was idly sifting through the pages of a book she had already read, forgetting to ask Bane for a fresh new stack of books the last time she saw him. The door to the utility closet opened slowly. She looked up casually, expecting to see either Barsad or Bane, but instead she saw three men, two of whom she didn't know or recognize. She knew who the other one was, and fear ran up her spine, making her numb. It was the man who use to bring her food, until Bane removed his responsibilities as food deliverer due to his inappropriate advances. She immediately got up off the bed and retreated into the corner, looking around the room for anything that she could use as a shield or a weapon in case the need arose. Finding nothing, she planted her palms back against the wall, ready to propel herself away at any moment if need be.

The men sauntered in, the one who she knew as the blatant asshole with a death wish giving her a sneer.

"See? I told you guys. All alone down here," he said to the other two individuals.

Myra shifted her eyes to the two other occupants, both of them looking considerably paler and more uncomfortable than Mr. Asshole. They looked as if they may not have believed his word and had asked him to prove evidence for his claim, and now that he had, they realized they were in an uncomfortable situation.

"Alright, I believe you…I'm pretty sure Bane wouldn't be too happy finding us down here though…" one of them stammered out.

The other one chimed in, agreeing with him.

"Yeah, Jay, we shouldn't be here". So Mr. Assholes name was "Jay", Myra thought. Noted.

Jay wrote them off with a wave of his hand.

"Quit being so scared. Bane or Barsad won't be down here for hours. I know their schedule, remember?" he said with unfounded confidence.

Myra stared the entire time during this exchange, back and forth between the men, hoping – _wishing_, their conclusion would be to her favor. When one of the men reached behind his head to scratch idly as if juggling the pros and cons of the situation internally, he finally sighed as if in agreement. Myra's heart sank.

Jay turned to look at Myra, fear clearly written on her face.

"Hey honey, don't worry. We won't hurt you. We only want a touch. It gets pretty lonely down here, don't you want to do us a favor?" Myra swallowed nervously, not sure if he was being rhetorical or genuine with his question. She decided he was being genuine.

"No," she stammered out.

Jay pretended to be hurt by her answer, bringing up a hand to his heart as if feigning his heart being crushed.

"Oh…that hurts, doll. You should make it up to me," he said as he slowly advanced towards her. Myra reacted by sliding herself against the wall in the opposite direction but was eventually impeded by the severe lack of square footage in the room.

Jay finally made his way to her, standing a foot directly in front of her. She could smell his stink, deciding it was his personality she was smelling and not just his body odor. He lifted a hand to touch her face. She flinched away from the unwelcome touch. Jay responded by grabbing her chin forcibly, letting one of his dirty thumbs slide along her bottom lip. Myra paused, before she chomped down on it suddenly, drawing blood.

"OWAHHH! DAMN IT. GOD….damn. BITCH!" Jay shouted, bringing a hand up and punching her right in the eye, causing her to lurch sideways against the wall. She brought her hand up to cover her injured eye, and as she did so she felt Jay roughly swing her around so that her chest was pressed against the wall.

"Damn bitch…gah that hurts. Guys, help me hold her so she doesn't try to bite me again," Jay ordered.

The two men reluctantly moved forward and stood on either side of Myra, each taking one of her arms and holding and forcing it against the wall to keep her body in place. Jay, with his hands now free, reached down and scraped his nails along her hips before moving them back up to work at the front of his pants suggestively.

"We have to do this quick so that we each have a turn," he said through impatient breaths.

Myra's ears were ringing. She couldn't believe what was happening. She started to scream and struggle against the two men holding her. This only made Jay mad, who slapped the side of her face with an open palm.

"Stop it or we'll tape your mouth," he barked at the back of her head. Myra cringed at the shock of the hand making contact with the side of her face, closing her eyes hoping that if she couldn't see anything then nothing bad would happen to her. She wasn't ready for this. Of course, no one is ready for a situation like this. Her ears started ringing again.

The men were too busy to notice the massive figure that took up most of the space in the door frame. As Jay worked to zip his pants down, he saw the expression of one of the men. He was looking straight at the door, and he looked like he was about to wet himself. Jay looked down after hearing the sound of water dripping and saw that there was indeed a urine trail from his crotch all the way down to his foot where it drizzled on the floor. Jay snapped his head back to see what gave this man so much terror, quickly zipping his pants back up. He had barely turned before a giant hand encased his face and another one reached for and started crushing his wind pipe. Bane squeezed harder to hear neck bone snapping, discarding the body to the floor. The other two men looked down at Jay's dead body, knowing their only chance of survival was through the use of offensive fighting against Bane, but both of them seemed too scared or shocked to make a move. Bane took advantage of their hesitancy, lifting one of them up full-body to be thrown at the other, both of their bodies landing on the floor. Bane stepped towards them before they could right themselves and stand up from their tangled-limbed mess.

Bane let his weight drop down on one of them knee-first on the skull, his knee straining against their head before a crunch and a 'pop' was heard, skull cracking from the friction of Bane's knee against bone. Bane stayed kneeling while he reached over and dealt with the other man who had the misfortune of being stuck under the man with the crushed skull. Bane went easy on him by finishing him off like Jay by crunching his throat like popcorn.

Once Bane was done with his chore, he gave a deep sigh and looked around at the carnage. His demeanor quickly transitioned from one of raging chaos back to composed tactician with two deep breaths. After he calmed himself, he let his eyes lift to Myra, who stood petrified in the corner with her face and body still planted against the wall, her hands now covering her face. He wasn't quite sure what she had seen but decided it would be a good idea to remove her from the room as quickly as possible so that a clean-up could be performed to remove any evidence of blood and urine. Bane stood up with a grunt, turning towards Barsad who had stood idly at the door the whole time and had an expression of boredom on his face.

"Arrange to have this mess cleaned up," Bane told Barsad. Barsad nodded and turned away to locate the proper tools and supplies to carry out the deed.

Bane turned back to give his attention to Myra. He stepped over the bodies and organic matter on the floor with care, not wanting to draw attention to the carnage on the floor. Myra kept her face covered with her hands as Bane approached her and she felt a soft grip take hold of her upper arm and gently turn and ease her away from the wall. Myra compiled due to the gentleness of the grip but kept her hands in place to cover her face. Bane decided it was probably best for her to keep her eyes covered, so he led her from the room, taking care to make sure she didn't step on any bodies.

Once outside of the room, Bane reached up and coaxed her hands from her face. Bane's eyes immediately shifted towards Myra's eye that was starting to swell from being struck.

"Come. Let's get you fixed up," Bane said as if he were proposing they bake cookies together.

Myra complied readily to being guided away from the room that smelled like urine and blood. She didn't physically see Bane attacking the men, but the noises that were made – like the stomach-churching crunches, splitting, snapping, organic matter spilling, oozing – was fuel for her imagination and nightmares. _He killed his own men…_She thought, worry spreading across her face. _Why did he do that? Was it because they disobeyed his orders? Was it because of his mother and his personal feelings about rape? Or…was it because they were touching me – hurting me? _

Bane lead her to the entrance of the underground reflow base, knowing she wasn't wearing a blindfold but knew, since she was smart, that she had guessed where the entrance already was. He did request she cover her eyes once they made their way to the damp underground, however. "Cover your eyes with your hands, please", Bane said politely, as if he hadn't just totally decimated three grown men under his charge.

Myra did as she was told, though her injured eye was starting to sting from being touched. Bane guided them as they walked for minutes until they reached a main component of where he and his men set up camp. He led her to an area that looked as if it was where meals were prepared and served. He led her to a chair and eased her down into it.

"Wait here," he said, before turning around and rummaging around in a refrigerator box.

Myra simply watched him from the chair, her hands clutching and twisting together at the new and unusual situation she was in. She saw Bane come back clutching a large piece of processed meat before slapping it up against her wounded eye roughly, causing her to jump and flinch. One of his hands reached down to grab and guide hers to the piece of meat covering her eye while his other held the back of her head to keep her head in place while he held the cold meat over her eye.

"Keep that there for an hour. It will still be black but at least it won't swell further," Bane said as he leaned back and appraised her, removing his hands. Myra looked back at him with one eye, feeling like a pirate, but grateful for the care he provided her.

"Don't you have ice? Wouldn't that be better? Is this sterile? Am I going to get…bacteria on my face?" Myra asked hesitantly, knowing some of her concerns were impossible if not down-right stupid.

Bane ignored her concerns.

"Did he injure you anywhere else?" Bane asked almost reluctantly, looking her over with his eyes, trying to detect red blotches on her clothes to indicate further injuries. Myra shook her head, readjusting the grip she had on the cold meat.

"No…no they didn't," she said with a hint of gratitude.

Bane nodded at her words, seemingly satisfied.

"I'll come back here in an hour to fetch you," Bane said, before giving her one final look and stalking off.

Myra's eyes wandered around awkwardly. She looked at the knives on the kitchen table, at the meat tenderizer, and the forks…she swallowed, wondering what state of mind Bane would be in to let one of his hostages sit in his mess hall for an hour unsupervised. While the notion of grabbing a knife, a fork, or even the meat tenderizer seemed appealing, she hadn't felt the need to protect herself from physical harm – until today, that is. She also had the sneaking suspicion that after today, no one else was going to bother her – or even _look _at her. That knowledge in itself was the best sort of defense mechanism that she could hope for. What she wanted from this mess hall, however, was something else. Her eyes wandered to the bushels and storage of food. She slowly rose from her chair.

* * *

Bane came back almost exactly an hour later to find Myra not in her seat. He huffed out an irritated sigh, knowing if she tried to escape she would undoubtedly get lost in the maze of the outflow system. It would only be a headache on his part because he would have to dispatch men that had better things to do than to go on a hunt for a missing hostage. His eyes caught movement near one of the food storage containers, however, and he saw Myra staring straight back at him with a large mouthful of pecans sticking out of her mouth. She looked as if she were being caught red-handed in a jewel heist.

Bane sauntered over to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked sternly. Myra simply stared back, deploying the mechanism of holding very still in hopes that he wouldn't be able to see her. Bane rose his brow when she didn't answer, letting his face drop forward a bit to indicate he was waiting for a reply.

Myra finally resumed chewing her food, enough so that she could swallow and speak intelligibly to him. She was savoring the taste of something new after weeks of monotony.

"Eating," she said through a mouthful of pecans. Bane eyed her again, his eyes traveling from the hand that covered the piece of cold meat over her wounded eye to the other hand that was already dipped into the bag of pecans, and then back up to the single eye staring straight back at him.

Bane reached out and grabbed the piece of cold meat that she clung to her eye socket as well as the pecan bag that she had snuck her hand into. He threw the piece of meat into a trash receptacle and placed the pecan bag on the counter, out of her reach. As he did so, his eyes roamed the knives, forks, and various tools used to serve food strewn across the tables easy for the taking. Her eyes were following his as he did this to see where his attention was focused, and when he turned back to her, she returned his gaze innocently. He eyed her suspiciously, knowing the arsenal of weapons she had the potential of taking and concealing from the dining area.

"Did you take anything else? This will be the only time I ask you, and you had better answer truthfully," Bane asked in almost a sing-song voice like he was scolding and threatening a child.

Myra simply responded to him by giving him a deadpan face and lowering her brows, looking insulted.

"No, of course I didn't," she said with mild irritation. Bane looked at her face, knowing she was more than likely telling the truth. He regarded that fact for a moment, contemplating why he instinctually thought that, realizing then that she had been a model hostage up to that point. She was polite, hadn't tried to escape, and had done what she was told (to some extent). He even marveled at her composure; any other person would probably be in a crying fit after being nearly raped. Myra seemed to just take it in stride.

Bane wasn't alive today by making assumptions, however.

"Spread your legs," Bane ordered gruffly.

Myra simply stared at him as if he were asking her to sprout wings and fly away. When she didn't initially respond, but instead stood there in shock giving him a look of mild disbelief, Bane raised his eyebrow at her to indicate he wasn't in the mood to reissue the order. Myra complied, sighing as if she were being terribly inconvenienced, but also felt a mild sting against her chest. She felt she had developed a moderate level of trust with her captor, and for him to not believe her now was a little disheartening. She took one of her feet and jumped out to the side so that she looked like she was doing a frozen jumping jack, even going so far as to raise her arms as if she were being screened in an airport TSA screening terminal for explosive devices.

Bane moved to stand behind her as he started patting her down, letting his hands roughly press into any crevice on her body that had even the slightest capability of concealing a weapon. His hands were firm and were thorough in their search with no hints of being squeamish, hesitant, or modest. Myra looked off to the side, letting her eyes roam as he performed this task so that her mind could focus on something other than his large hands touching her body, leaving a trail of tingling sensations where they swept over it. She tried not to think about how those hands just moments earlier killed three grown men effortlessly as if they were toothpicks; all he would have to do was twitch or sneeze and he would probably fracture something. Steering her mind away from negative thoughts actually had the inadvertent effect of causing her to focus on the positive side of the situation. Although his hands were firm and even a bit rough, the feeling wasn't unpleasant. Actually, Myra realized, it was quite the opposite. Redness speckled her cheeks as she began to blush. She also had an inkling that he had an ulterior motive aside from just searching her for weapons, though she assumed that he would never admit to or hint at anything unchivalrous in his actions as his hands roamed over her body.

Bane performed the task quickly as if he'd patted down thousands of individuals – which he probably had. She heard him lower himself into a crouching position so he could sweep his hands along her legs and up into her inner thigh. She jumped when she felt his hand brush a particularly sensitive region, causing her to turn a more ferocious color of red, though Bane didn't seem to notice or just regarded her behavior as ridiculous. He stood up after completing the task, seeming pacified after finding no hidden weapons. Ignoring her red face, he reached out and grabbed the bag of pecans that he left on the counter and grabbed her upper arm to steer her out of the eating hall. Myra tried forcing her mind away from the sensations she felt from the brief physical encounter, forcing her mind to focus on the pecan bag that he grabbed off the counter. She hoped it indicated that he meant to let her have them. She ached for something to eat other than the potatoes, carrots, and bruised apples and cheese sandwiches she ate every day. Redness continued to stain her cheeks, however, despite her attempts at creating a new string of thought as Bane lead her out of the eating hall.

Bane led her further into the location of the underground base where he and his men resided, Myra noting the smell of dampness and filth wafting around as well as the periodic sound of running water indicating they were walking over running water and large pipes. He eventually led her to a makeshift canopy that protected an array of electrical equipment from dripping water from the condensation and leaks caused by the water outflow system. A cot with a disheveled blanket and pillow abutted the electrical equipment. The electrical equipment included a matrix of monitors and screens. Whoever slept here obviously enjoyed being close to the tactical information and displays. Myra let her eyes wander to a small fire pit not far from the cot with a tea kettle and an old tin cup next to it.

"This will be your room for now until we clean up the mess," Bane said as he turned her away from the electrical equipment and led her into a door that was directly next to one of the canopy posts. Bane led her inside and gave her a few moments to take in her surroundings.

Myra noted that it was the same room that she took a shower in not too long ago. The room was roughly twice the size of Myra's utility closet confines. The room had some added features which included an old pedestal sink against one wall with a mirror hinged over a medicine cabinet as well as a small door next to the sink that opened to a toilet and a shower that was simply a showerhead sticking out from the side of the wall, old subway tile lining the walls and the floor that lead to the shower drain on the floor next to the toilet. Myra pondered why a room with these kinds of amenities even existed underground in the sewers but didn't ponder too long about it. There was also a mountain of books in one corner, the notion of a bookshelf seemingly abandoned. There was a military cot with a military blanket in the room too which looked relatively unused. She turned back towards the cot in the corner and then back to him.

"Who's room is this?" Myra asked which was the first question that popped into her mind.

Bane eyed her briefly before responding.

"Mine, but I don't sleep here often. I sleep directly outside primarily. I do enjoy the use of water and other amenities in here, though, so there will be some compromise on your end. I hope that won't be an issue?" Bane asked as if she were an overnight guest who had a legitimate voice in the matter.

She stared back at him humorlessly before nodding.

"Does anyone else use the stuff in here?" she asked.

"No, I'm the only one allowed in here," Bane said before sweeping his eyes around the room.

He spotted an ammo bag with a pistol on top of it and went to retrieve it, considering it most definitely an inappropriate item to let her have while she occupied the room. He did a second sweep in case he forgot something else, satisfied when he didn't see anything. He looked back at her and gave her a look indicating now was the time for any additional questions or requests before she was going to be left alone for an unspecified amount of time. She simply stared back as if engaging in a staring contest but conceded when she let her eyes drop and roam to the cot. Bane nodded at this, sensing no further questions or concerns, before exiting the room to shut and lock the door. But not before he placed the bag of pecans on the cot.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3_**

**_Author: Let me know what you think! I love hearing feedback and tips for improvement :) _**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie._**

* * *

Myra relished in the opportunity to sleep in a cot and using an actual toilet after having spent several weeks using a sleeping bag and using the bucket on the concrete floor. Her body and limbs rejoiced at the feeling of being cradled by the hardened canvas of the cot. She didn't even mind that the bedding she used had the faint smell of Bane, which included campfire, motor oil, and almonds as well as another musky male smell she couldn't quite place. She did stay up for several hours contemplating Bane's motive for killing his own men. She still wasn't sure if Bane's reaction towards the men who tried to force themselves on her was induced by them disobeying his orders, because he had a sensitive spot regarding rape in general due to his mother falling to a similar fate, or because…._because they were hurting me? _

Myra felt like she had slept for hours before she was finally woken up to the sound of the door screeching open. She jerked her head to the door to see who the intruder was. It was Bane, who held a pile of fresh clothes in his hand. When Bane put them down, she noted that they were new clothes for her that even included a few additional items such as training shoes and socks. She lifted herself up on her elbows to look at the clothing from a better angle.

"Your other clothing was unfortunately…stained from yesterday's events, so I hope you don't mind a fresh wardrobe," Bane said almost embarrassingly.

Myra's mind snapped back to 'yesterday's events', which of course involved Bane tearing into three grown men in a relatively small utility room. Her mind began to visualize what he meant by 'stained', and only assumed he meant that some of the human blood and organic matter must have splattered so excessively that they found their way on the clothes she had in her room.

Myra brought a hand up to wipe her eyes in an attempt to remove the mental image. Bane interpreted her gesture as either annoyance at losing her clothes or anxiety at being reminded of the events. He quickly proceeded to explain the purpose of his visit, aside from bringing her clothes.

"I've decided you would benefit heavily from proper self-defense instruction in the extremely unlikely event that I would be unable to provide you with assistance," Bane announced.

Bane must have seen the look of terror on her face, so he felt the need to elaborate.

"Of course, you should not worry about requiring those skills _while here…_" Bane continued, satisfied when he saw Myra's severe expression lessen considerably.

"What kind of self-defense training?" Myra asked, no longer reluctant but now curious.

Bane regarded her question thoughtfully.

"Just a series of moves and techniques that could aid you in the event of an assault against you. I won't be teaching you offensive techniques, unfortunately," Bane said sternly as if she may had been scheming the idea of using anything he taught her against him, which of course she hadn't.

Myra felt herself smirk at his comment.

"What? No offensive techniques?" she quipped, moving herself up into a seated position on the cot and bringing one of her arms to flex her bicep.

"Afraid of this?" she continued, going so far as to squeeze her bicep with her free hand, clearly squishing into string-bean flabby arms that lacked any definition or muscle.

Myra of course thought she was far funnier than her audience did, with Bane simply staring at her as if he wasn't sure if she were being serious or sincere. Myra's face faltered and she dropped her arms when Bane didn't react as well to the joke as she had anticipated.

"You may even enjoy the lessons and the exercise; I know you must not enjoy the physical confines of the room all day and all night," Bane said in a tone that had indicated her comfort was at least on some spectrum in his mind.

"When are we starting?" Myra finally asked.

"Right now. Get dressed. I'll be outside," Bane replied before turning around and closing the door.

Myra went to the clothes that Bane had brought and shuffled through them. She changed into a pair of fitted work-out pants, a sports bra, a t-shirt, socks, and the training sneakers. She found a piece of parachute cord on the ground and used it to tie up her hair. When she was fully dressed, she exited the room hesitantly.

Bane was standing outside with his arms crossed, his eyes directed towards the monitors. When he heard her exit the room, he turned around to appraise her apparel change. He gave a nod before turning away and making his way down a hall. She assumed he meant for her to follow him, so she did so in a brisk walk so as not to fall behind.

Myra followed him down the hall, where they made their way a short distance away to a large open area that had EVA foam mats littered all over the floor. Myra assumed this was to make the floor more comfortable than the cement in case someone fell on it. Myra rubbed her hands together as if she were cold, though in actuality she was just nervous though she couldn't trace why she was feeling that way.

When they made it to the center of the large room, Bane turned towards her.

"Rule one," he said, obviously transitioned into instructor mode. "Use your aggression and force. Let it be known you're powerful, even if you yourself don't think so. The worst mistake is not believing or trying. Be loud. Be intimidating. Create attention," Bane listed these off as if reading from a grocery list.

Myra absorbed it all, keeping her eyes focused on his. Bane stepped closer to her and grabbed her hand roughly with his and raising it up so that her hand was directly in her face.

"Use your fingernails if you need to, but you may injure yourself. Be prepared for that pain. A better alternative is using a tool, like a pen, to stab into your attacker. I'd recommend the neck," Bane said as if he were providing baking tips for a baking the perfect pie.

Myra swallowed and stared fixated on her hand, letting her eyes look at her fingernails before she let them settle on Bane's hand holding hers. Bane let her hand drop before continuing.

"The most ideal location you could ever kick to disable your attacker is the groin. If you are able to do it with enough force, you could even paralyze them," Bane said, before moving around behind her and letting his hands fall down to her hips to position her body over her legs into a proper kick stance.

"Let's proceed with working on your kicks…" Bane said over her shoulder before they both worked on Myra's kicking capabilities and improvement upon this.

By the end of what felt like hours of kicking, her legs felt like jelly. She even tested her luck by falling dramatically forward onto her chest, burying her face into the mat as if she were too exhausted to move. She knew this slick maneuver earned her a ride from Bane back to her room when she was forced to run 50 laps around the parking garage. She was hoping he would provide her the same courtesy today.

Bane simply stared down at her dramatic display, letting a sigh waft through the grill of his mask. He moved to her side without a word, bending down and flipping her onto her back before lifting her up into his arms with ease. Bane's eyes roamed to her face as he straightened up from the ground and saw a faint hint of a smile on her lips, almost as if she were actively trying to conceal it. He ignored it as he strode her back to her room and deposited her unceremoniously on the cot, not being as gentle as he was when he had performed the same task to return her to her utility room. Myra bounced several times before settling, her arms coming out to balance herself out. She turned her face to give him a glare, before turning onto her side and burrowing herself into the cot nest of blankets.

This sort of routine lasted for a week, with Bane providing Myra with some rudimentary skills regarding defense techniques which transitioned into Myra feigning exhaustion once the lesson was over and ending with Bane carrying her back to her room and either depositing or throwing her onto her cot. Aside from the slight act of aggression in his method of disposing her body onto her bed, Bane didn't show any indicator that he disapproved or disliked carrying her back to her room. Myra knew he simply wouldn't pick her up if he truly didn't want to and would and _could _resort to threatening her to get up if he desired. But he never did.

Myra's utility closet room was eventually cleaned and she was transferred back to it during the evenings and nights to her disappointment.

She knew that transferring her back to the utility closet in the evenings allowed Bane privacy in the room to use the sink, mirror, and shower. She also knew she was transferred back during the day so that it was easier to start the defense training at a moment's notice if need be, in addition to the added benefit of Bane now being able to keep an eye on her and actively prevent any additional hiccups regarding individuals entering her living space without Bane's permission. What Bane didn't tell her was that he figured she enjoyed the cot and the amenities of the sink, shower, and toilet during the day, and sacrificed the use of these amenities in private for her comfort.

* * *

Bane started to bring Barsad into the training area now that Myra had advanced somewhat and now had need of a volunteer to aid in trying out several of Bane's self-defense techniques. Bane volunteered Barsad's body for the purpose of learning.

When Myra was learning how to leverage her weight to flip her opponent from behind her, Myra was _extremely _skeptical about her ability to roll or manipulate Barsad's weight, considering her own size, strength, and weight compared to his. She wasn't 'short', but she wasn't as tall or as big as Barsad was.

"I'm going to injure myself," Myra verbalized her doubts.

"No you won't. If you do as I instructed, then you have nothing to worry about," Bane said.

Bane pointed for Barsad to stand behind Myra. Barsad's expression was one of exasperated boredom. He even let his body hang limply as if he were being inconvenienced terribly.

"Put your hand on her shoulder," Bane ordered Barsad with a finger point as if he needed directing.

Myra felt Barsad's hand plop limply on her shoulder.

"Alright, now do as I told you and roll him over your shoulder," Bane told Myra.

Myra eyed Bane skeptically before taking hold of Barsad's limp hand at her shoulder. She turned her head to look over her shoulder and eye Barsad. She mouthed, "I'm sorry!" before she crouched down and forward, using the momentum and weight of her body to yank him down and forward over her onto the ground. He landed with a thud on his back. He stayed lying on the mat motionless, staring up at the ceiling. He certainly wasn't injured, but he definitely had a look that indicated he was questioning his life choices.

Myra got down onto her knees and crawled next to Barsad's head, looking down at his neutral expression.

"I DID IT!" she yelled, not realizing her excitement amplified her voice directly into Barsad's face. He turned his head away at her boisterousness.

"Good job," Barsad mumbled.

Myra pouted half-heartedly, sitting back on her legs to free her hands to cup Barsad's face between them.

"I'm sorry Barsad. I know it must hurt your sensibilities to have someone much smaller and weaker than you toss you around like a peanut," she teased him by lightly patting his bearded cheek.

Barsad simply stared back up at her, his expression lazy and unamused though she knew by now that he looked that way regardless of how he was feeling internally.

"Again," Bane barked, though Myra thought she could detect hints of satisfaction in his voice at her successfully performing the technique on her first try. It was also possible he found her teasing of Barsad amusing.

Myra gave Barsad one more teasing smile before she hoisted herself up. She extended a hand down to Barsad, who initially seemed inclined to decline it, but lifted his arm up and took hold of her hand to help lift himself up.

They performed the exercise several more times before Bane was satisfied with Myra's abilities. Barsad simply stalked away after he was dismissed.

"Thanks Barsad!" Myra shouted after him. He didn't seem to hear or acknowledge that he heard her.

Myra rounded on Bane, bringing up a finger and poking him in the chest playfully. Her mood and feelings were elevated due to the recent successes at performing the exercises with Barsad and the moderately proud look that Bane conveyed to her, making her feel slightly giddy and foolish.

"When do I get to try that on you, huh? Flip you over?" Myra said teasingly.

Bane looked down at the finger that was prodding into his chest before looking back up at her. He snatched her finger into his fist quickly before applying a delicate squeeze. To Myra, though, Bane's 'delicate squeeze' was borderline bone crushing.

"I'd injure you, unfortunately. I doubt you will ever have an attacker my size. If you do, my suggestion to you would be to run," Bane stated matter-of-factly.

Myra squinted at the pressure he applied to her finger, though she tried not to let him see his squeeze was hurting her.

"Are you trying to break my finger?" Myra finally asked while making attempts at reclaiming her finger from his grip.

Bane looked down with a startled expression at her finger he held in his grip.

"That hurts you?" he asked with genuine surprise.

"YES," Myra nearly shouted as she used her body weight to lean away from him. "Look, you are basically holding me up by my finger", she said, as she let her body go limp and curled her knees out from under her to dangle lightly over the mats.

Bane watched her antics as if he wasn't sure what he should do or how he should react. He waited for Myra to put her feet back on the matted floor and stand up before he lessened his grip slightly on her finger.

"How about now?" Bane asked curiously. Myra looked at his hand engulfing her single finger, and noticed it ease just enough to where it wasn't uncomfortable. Her finger even started to feel like it was being encased in warm (but very calloused) pillows.

"Yes, that feels nice. I mean good….fine. That feels fine." Myra looked off to the side awkwardly.

Bane watched her reaction, holding her finger for several more moments so he could internally remember the appropriate amount of pressure to apply before his grip bordered onto 'bone-crushing' as it pertained to Myra. He let go after he felt like he had a proper gauge.

When Bane let go, Myra studied her finger to see if it had been crushed, giving him an accusatory glare. She finished her inspection before dropping her hand to her side.

"We finished earlier than usual. Can we play a game too? We can play Battleship! You haven't played that yet!" Myra exclaimed, trying to make her eyes soften and look pathetic, as if she were the one doing him a favor instead of vice versa.

Bane eyed her, not moved by her theatrics. He crossed his arms over his chest while he continued to stare at her before he let out a reluctant nod.

Myra responded by doing an impromptu dance that looked like a mutated version of the "Moonwalk" and "The Robot" combined. Bane's eyes shot up in surprise, clearly not prepared for this level of enthusiasm particularly over something as trivial as playing a simple board game with him.

Myra scooted her way in a terrible, _terrible _version of the "Moonwalk" towards the path that led back to her room with the cot and pedestal sink. Bane just walked a safe distance behind her, not wanting to fall victim to whatever disease seemed to take hold of Myra's body.

And like most everything else Bane did that involved a moderate amount of tactical knowledge, he destroyed her.

"Beginner's luck," Myra goaded, as if trying to convince herself that Bane had 'some' type of weakness beyond him winning against her at games that required even a small amount of tactical consideration.

Bane decided to play her again, and then again after that, easily beating her each time. Myra decided to add "Battleship" to her blacklist.

She wasn't particularly upset over the repeated beatings, however, because Bane stayed and played with her far longer than she had anticipated or hoped for.

* * *

After another week, Bane decided it was time to test out her skills. He recruited one of his men named Yair to be her sparring partner and to test whether she could adequately defend herself. Due to the established comradier and respect that Barsad and Myra had established, he opted to not recruit him for this particular test. Myra was not a fan, however, of Bane's method of determining whether any of the skills he taught her sunk in.

"You may do as you wish with her," Bane said to Yair before turning to Myra, still speaking to Yair but looking directly at her. "She has the tools and skills to defend herself if she is thinking properly", Bane said, hinting at consequences if she wasn't successful.

Myra and Yair looked at each other incredulously, eyebrows raised, eyes wide. Her expression is one of tight-lipped disbelief, his expression matching hers until his eyelids drop and his lips slip into a sleezy upturn at the corners and he even has the audacity of giving her a full up and down look-over with his eyes, causing her eyebrows to further raise up before plunging down into a furrow in annoyance, disgust, and with a slight dash of fear.

"You're joking," Myra spat out incredulously.

"You'll be sorely mistaken if that is your belief," Bane said this casually, turning his back on the pair while absentmindedly tying knots with a parachute cord. She didn't fail to notice the casual innuendo in his voice concerning the word 'sorely'. Her mind began to race. _Maybe he did kill those would-be rapers simply because they disobeyed his orders, and he could give two-shits about someone raping me? _

Before Myra could react, Yair was on her. She let out a gasp as she was knocked onto her back, hitting the foam-matted floor and feeling the wind knocked out of her. She clenched her teeth after regaining focus, bringing her hands up to push against Yair's chest in an attempt to push him off. She was extremely disconcerted that every ounce of energy and strength she used barely seemed to phase or budge his body off of her. She periodically clenched her fists together to punch at him, but this seemed to only amuse him. His knee was between her thighs, forcing them apart even wider as his hand found its way to her waistband, his fingers starting to snake and force themselves under the hem of her pants, eventually sandwiching themselves between her skin and the hem of her underwear. His other arm was bent, with his forearm pressed against her collarbone, using the weight of his upper body to keep her pinned down.

Myra's legs began to thrash wildly when she felt his fingers make contact with the skin on her stomach and start to slide further south under her underwear. Moisture budded at the corner of her eyes as she gritted at him with pure venomous rage and desperation. She began to huff wildly, exhaustion catching up with her but the sense of desperation and self-preservation keeping her animated, forcing her limbs past their limit resulting in them to tingle from the exertion. She watched as Yair's lips upturned into that slimy, greasy, lazy disgusting smile, his eyelids half lowered as he watched her reaction while his fingers began to inch down between her legs.

Yair's fingers never made it to their destination, however, as his body and subsequently his hand was bodily removed from her by two much larger hands gripping the fabric at his back, pulling him off. "Alright, playtime is over", Bane said as if in jest as he tossed the man like a sack of potatoes a good 5 feet to the side, but Bane was clearly not amused. Myra stayed on her back staring up at Bane, exhaustion still consuming her and making her numb but she clearly noticed Bane's displeasure was aimed directly down at her for her complete failure and incompetence regarding her own protection. Before she could react further, he bent down to grab the scruff of her shirt, hoisting her up as if she weighed nothing, keeping her lifted up off of the ground as he strode back towards the wall stopping only when her back made contact with the cement, finally letting her down onto her feet, keeping his fists clenched into the fabric of her scruff.

Myra's eyes flickered upward towards his, seeing the sheer annoyance in the look he was giving her, his mask emitting forced muffled grunts which only highlighted his displeasure. Her heart sank at his displeasure. She had never seen him this upset or dissatisfied with her during her time as a hostage. She turned her head to the side, averting her gaze, lips pressed together in a thin line. Bane let go of the scruff of her shirt, instead moving his arms to cage her head by resting a palm on either side of her head in a not-so-subtle attempt at intimidation. Myra didn't respond to these simple acts of intimidation by shrinking or cringing away, however. Instead, her mind was focused on her own failures and the disappointment she saw had seen in Bane's eyes when they looked at her. Blood drained from her face as she processed this, her mind replaying the events that lead to her mistakes to defend herself and subsequently Bane's displeasure.

Bane stared down at her for several seconds, analyzing her expression, composure, and lack of physical reaction towards his attempts at intimidating her. Bane was a master of intimidation. He knew what he needed to do to cause the hair of someone's neck to crawl, what look he needed to give someone to make them wet themselves. When Myra didn't react to the physical presence of his arms on either side of her head by shrinking of shying away, it at first confused him. He soon came to realize, however, that her paled complexion and strained severe expression wasn't because she feared him physically; she feared something else. He searched her expression several more moments as if looking for an answer written on her face before he came to the realization that what she feared was not his fist, but rather, his disappointment. He tested this theory by dropping one hand to her shoulder. Myra continued to gaze to the side to avoid Bane's eyes, shame apparent on her face. She also failed to react to the new physical presence of his hand on her shoulder. It might as well have been a leaf that landed on her shoulder.

Bane lifted his brows upon this realization, searching her expression several moments before allowing his eyes shift to a look of satisfaction. His eyes softened, the skin crinkling at the corner of his eyes indicating a hidden smile behind the mask. He removed his hand from her shoulder to bring his arms up to curl his fists around the upper straps of his vest casually, taking a step back to lean back and appraise her, his chest puffing out as he relaxed his stance.

Bane was used to his soldiers performing tasks to the best of their abilities because they feared punishment and death; very rarely is he met with an individual that fears his disappointment more than his fist. The only other individual that has shared this sentiment was Barsad, his second in command. This was one of the very reasons why Bane trusted Barsad with his life.

"We'll finish this later," Bane said finally, his voice illustrating a sense of ease as he turned his head to dismiss Yair who was giving Myra a look like he wasn't done with his half-eaten meal quite yet. Yair sauntered off after his dismissal, but not before looking over his shoulder and giving Myra one last look-over. Myra let her eyes shift towards Bane, feeling awkward and confused by his sudden change in composure but let relief take hold as she let out a tired suppressed sigh as her body slumped and slid partially down the wall. He turned back towards her, disregarding her state of fatigue.

"Let's get some food. What would you like to eat?"

Myra lifted her brows, letting the look of shock plaster her face as she made eye contact with him. Bane was actually asking _her_what _she_wanted to eat? As if there were options? Was he teasing her? Had there been options before? Were they eating the same thing almost every day because they assumed she _liked it? _When she simply stared at him, not favoring him with a reply, he turned his body towards her. "It's impolite to stare. It's even more impolite not to respond when spoken to." Myra let the shock on her face settle before finally letting her mind race and search for the first thing she may be craving but has been otherwise unable to eat due to her current predicament.

"Pizza," she blurted out. "Cheese pizza."

Bane regarded her briefly before nodding, letting his eyes search and settle onto hers. Myra half expected him to say something like, "That would be nice, wouldn't it? Too bad that's not what we're having", or something demoralizing simply to tease her. Instead he continued to nod before finally turning towards the door to exit and make food arrangements.

"Pizza it is."

* * *

Myra _devoured _her pizza. 'Inhaled' might be a more apt description of it, to be honest. She disregarded table manners as she took each slice like it was about to disappear out of her hand at a moment's notice unless she consumed it as quickly as possible. Bane, of course, didn't eat in front of her but still sat at the table she was occupying, appraising her appetite and ability to consume an entire pizza.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Myra asked finally as she made it halfway through the consumption of her own pizza. Bane was seated in his chair idly, simply watching the whole ordeal with amusement.

"I will later," he replied simply, gazing at her as if he were watching a zoo animal.

Myra was already chomping on the next slice but let her eyes lift up over the slice of pizza to look at him, letting her eyes settle on his mask knowing there must be some level of difficulty eating with the mask in place. She wasn't sure if he preferred privacy during that time either, but her hunch was confirmed when he simply sat there and watched while she ate the pizza and his pizza sat covered in the pizza box untouched.

* * *

Bane decided to abandon the use of a 'volunteer' to establish Myra's proficiency level regarding her self-defense, realizing she still wasn't ready and that he was partly to blame for misjudging her readiness. It wasn't that she hadn't been listening; on the contrary, she usually soaked up his knowledge, and when working with Barsad, did as she was instructed perfectly well. However, when put in a situation that required quick thinking, and equally quick reaction time, she had her failings. Bane decided to focus on those aspects, starting with reaction time. He decided to employ methods that also weren't as sinister as the ones he used the day prior.

Bane stood in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Today we will focus on your reaction time. Yesterday proved that you need considerable improvement."

Bane eyed her for a brief moment to highlight his point. Myra just looked off to the side bashfully.

"Reaction time isn't inherent. It can be taught and built upon. Now, try and stop me."

Myra was about to ask what he meant by "Try and stop me" when she felt a slap on the side of her head. It wasn't aggressive, and it didn't hurt, but by god it was annoying. She narrowed her eyes at him, ready to unleash some verbal venom when she felt another 'slap' on the side of her arm that felt like a giant solid pancake whipping against her skin.

"_STOP," _she said, clearly annoyed. She brought her hands up in front of her chest to ready herself to deflect another incoming slap. She waited for several seconds in anticipation before she felt another slap on the opposite side of her head. She barely even saw him move. She decided to retaliate by bringing her hand forward to slap him on the arm. Her hand never made contact with his skin, however, for he snatched her hand out of the air effortlessly. He held onto her hand while his other hand was used to smack her on the side of the shoulder and subsequently the head again.

Myra began writhing in his grip, moving her body as far away from his free hand as she could, eyeing it like it was a snake ready to strike. She used her other hand to try and pry her hand out of his. As she did this, she felt two more slaps make contact with the top of her head and the side of her hip.

"How am I supposed to stop you if you won't let me go? What are you expecting me to do, kick you in the groin?" she breathed angrily.

Bane found this incredibly humorous.

"You still have use of your other hand. I can only reach so far," he pointed out.

Myra made a valiant effort to deflect several more of his light smacks, even almost successfully deflecting one though in all honestly it was an accident. Bane saw she was getting frustrated, however, at being paired up with someone with a much higher reaction time than she had. He decided to transition the lesson slightly, again maintaining a less serious undertone than the one he used the day before but still maintaining the same principles.

Bane finally let go of her hand, moving around and behind her. He moved his hands to take hold of her elbows, elevating them slightly and positioning her forearms as if to imprison her head between her forearms.

"If someone is hitting you in the head, protect it. Ignore other blows to your body; it can protect itself just fine," Bane said, as he moved back around to stand in front of her.

Myra eyed him with her arms raised up lightly caging and protecting her head. She felt another smack on the side of her hip. She impulsively moved one of her arms down as if to block the hit with a considerable delay, but Bane quickly corrected her by grabbing her arm roughly and putting it back next to her head.

"Don't move your arms. Ignore everything else happening to your body. Focus on your head only. This will help you focus your energy and react appropriately," he said sternly.

He smacked her on the side of her shoulder. Myra felt herself reflectively want to move her arms down from around her head but kept herself from doing so. She felt another smack try and make its way against her head, but her arms successfully blocked it. She felt a few more smacks on her hip and her shoulder, and then on the other side of her head.

"Are you trying to tenderize me?" Myra quipped, her arms dropping slightly.

"I'm barely touching you. I'm surprised you can even feel anything," Bane retorted, eying her for her sass. "What did I say about keeping your arms up?" Bane barked.

Myra immediately lifted her arms back up to protect the side of her head with an annoyed sigh, waiting for another barrage of annoying smacks. Her arms were starting to get exhausted.

Instead of smacking her again, which she was anticipating, Bane decided to test her ability and sincerity at keeping her arms up. He dropped a hand to her hip, squeezing it lightly before moving it up along her side. Myra was eyeing his behavior with the utmost suspicion, her eyes following his hand as it moved up from her hip to her side. As his hand made its way upwards, it began to tickle her ferociously.

Now, it took a lot to genuinely phase and surprise Myra. Being lightly tickled at her side by Bane's one hand was one thing that genuinely surprised her. She knew he had the capability of joking and that he even possessed a mild sense of humor, but it rarely extended into his physical being and actions he performed. If it could even be remotely categorized as being 'silly', she discounted it as something that she would ever see Bane doing. She immediately doubled over, her body arching away from the hand that was 'attacking' her.

"NO. TICKLING. STOP. I HATE IT," Myra shouted between forced laughs, feeling ridiculous and caught by surprise. Myra had her boundaries, and tickling was one of them. She _loathed _being tickled. Bane picked up on the sincerity and loathing in her voice, snatching it up.

"You detest being tickled? That's interesting," Bane said, amusement thick in his voice. Myra immediately detected that Bane intended to use that to his advantage to drill into her whatever lesson or instruction he was trying to instill in her. Myra turned as if to scuttle away like an uneven drunk from Bane, moving her arms in an attempt to cover her sides.

"What did I say about moving your arms from your head?" Bane said as he snatched her by the arm before she made a getaway, seriousness thick in his voice, reminding Myra that although she might categorize this activity as 'silly', it had a logical purpose for Bane and therefore should be regarded as such.

Myra growled at him. A genuine growl. "You're just going to tickle me again!"

Bane nodded as if it were obvious. "Of course I will," he said.

Myra made another attempt at fleeing, but to little avail. He eased her gently in front of him as if to reason with her, using the hold he had on her arm to guide her.

"If you can keep your hands covering your head for 30 seconds, then we can be done for today and go play whatever board game you wish," Bane compromised. "Tickling is a common torture technique. 30 seconds is a good starting point."

Myra eyed him suspiciously as if he were trying to trick and fool her by making things up. She worked it out in her mind, trying to gather the mental fortitude to withstand 30 seconds of tickling. She wasn't sure she could do it. She wasn't even sure it was humanly possible.

"That's not fair. People like you who aren't ticklish have a huge advantage," Myra complained.

"Who said I wasn't ticklish?" Bane said with surprise.

Myra eyed him, trying to picture him doubled-over laughing from being tickled. She was having a hard time imagining it. Bane sensed her skepticism. "I have self-control; something you appear to be severely lacking", Bane said, his voice thick with amusement and condescension.

Myra continued to eye him skeptically.

"Do your worst," Bane offered, inviting her to see if he would budge form being tickled.

Myra inched forward hesitantly as if he were going to rescind his offer at a moment's notice. She brought her hands out to his sides, letting them hover over his sides for several seconds as she looked up at him for one last confirmation that it was okay to try and 'torture' him. He simply nodded expectantly at her. She deployed the same technique he used by letting her fingers feather along his sides. She was at least expecting some sort of flinching or twitching, but she received no indicator from Bane that her fingers were affecting him at all. He simply looked down at Myra curiously. This emboldened Myra, who felt like she, too, should and could display the same level of discipline that he was demonstrating.

"Fine. I want it PROPERLY TIMED, though. Get a timer," Myra demanded.

Bane pulled out a phone and set the timer to 30 seconds. He elevated his thumb over the 'start' button, his eyes on her, waiting for her to give the signal. Myra lifted her arms up to protect her head, adjusting her stance as if she were about to face a tornado coming her way.

Bane pressed the button, putting it on the ground quickly before advancing on her. He used both of his hands this time, letting his fingers do a crab-like fluttering walk up and down her sides. Myra immediately doubled over with laughter mixed with the uncomfortableness of being tickled, though she didn't move her arms from her head. She tried being sneaky by curling her body into a fetal position, dropping and rolling onto the ground in an attempt to bodily prevent Bane from accessing her sides.

Bane, however, simply dropped to one knee and rolled her body like dough towards him, continuing his half-hearted assault against her sides with unrelenting tickles.

The timer eventually went off, but Bane didn't ease his tickling immediately. Myra began to scream bloody murder, knowing the timer went off and that she had done what was asked of her. Bane raised his arms away from her after she started screaming, though the crinkling at the corner of his eyes indicated he was extremely amused. He got up from his kneeled position and simply stared down at her being melodramatic before offering her a hand to help her get up.

Myra ignored his extended hand as she got up herself, letting out a huge tired and relieved sigh. She felt her heart pounding from the exertion. She saw Barsad had appeared near the entrance to the sparring arena. She realized embarrassingly that he must have responded to her screaming. She ambled towards him sluggishly, wiping off dirt that found its way on her clothes as she was rolling on the ground.

"He's a monster," Myra said with mock severity as she passed Barsad, loudly enough so that she knew Bane could hear it.

Barsad's eyes snapped to Bane in concern, not sure what transpired except that there was screaming, and that Myra apparently ended up on the ground. Bane simply rolled his eyes at her dramatic statement.

* * *

The following day, Myra finally witnessed Bane without his mask. She had gotten into a routine of sleeping in the room during the day because it provided access to a much more comfortable cot over sleeping on the much harder concrete floor of the utility room. Bane became familiar with this routine and used this time to enter the room quietly and perform basic hygienic functions assuming she was asleep and that he no longer had to wait until the evenings to perform these tasks.

When Bane entered her room quietly and let his eyes wander to the cot, he saw that she appeared to be sleeping, so he proceeded inside. She wasn't quite asleep, however, and had only been on the cusp of sleep with her eyes closed. His arrival, however, eventually piqued her interest particularly when she heard shuffling and the sound of hardware being unbuckled and unfastened. She opened only one eye, just barely, moving until it located him in front of the pedestal sink and mirror. She saw his reflection in the dirty mirror for a moment before he dislodged his mask from his face.

Myra had honestly not contemplated extensively about what he may look like behind the mask, knowing he had an injury that required the use of it so there must be some level of disfigurement behind it. What she saw in the reflection of the mirror as he looked down to settle the mask on the sink before looking up into the mirror to scrub water and soap on his face before brushing his teeth was a huge scar that traveled from his upper cheek across his nose. His nose had obviously been numerous times, a huge groove seemingly cutting the bridge of his nose in half which was where the scar traveled through as if a river in a deep ravine. He had other superficial scars along his face, but the feature that struck her as the most striking were his lips. They were considerably fuller than she had anticipated, and perfectly unblemished. She immediately thought of ripe peaches. She even had to stop herself from swallowing, willing herself not to wonder whether they tasted as good as they looked. She cringed inwardly at thinking something so ridiculous…_yet so true._

Myra watched him as he cleaned his face and brushed his teeth in a hurry, assuming he could only go for a limited amount of time without the mask. When he was finished, he put the mask back in place. Myra quickly closed her eye as he turned around to exit the room, not wanting him to discover her eyeballing him. After he exited the room, she couldn't help but contemplate the images of him washing his face and brushing his teeth without his mask; almost as if he were _normal_. She also decided, almost embarrassingly, that she found his facial imperfections, the scars that coated his face, and particularly his lips absolutely handsome, borderline _gorgeous,_in a rough-and-tumble kind of way. She wasn't anticipating associating Bane with _handsome_. She continued to wonder if his lips tasted as good as they looked.

Bane was no fool, however. He saw the strain in the skin covering her eyes hinting at her making a quick show of closing them before he passed her to exit the room.

* * *

The next day during a new round of self-defense training, Myra felt herself reacting to the aftermath of seeing him without his mask on. It left her feeling like a school-girl with an unbelievable crush. She knew it was moderately superficial to suddenly appear as if she discovered she had feelings for him after seeing something as simple as his face without appearing to consider his full mind and body. However, she knew she felt feelings for him had started to bubble in the pit of her stomach after he saved her from the men who tried to rape her in her room. In addition, after he started opening up to her and she spent more time with him, she became to realize how truly brilliant and intelligent he was. He was witty and charming when he wanted to be. The range of emotion he was able to express with his eyes alone was alluring. And his eyes… It was maddening to know that someone was capable of being so physically superior and magnificent while also possessing a genius-like intellect.

Seeing his unmasked, vulnerable face, however, felt like she was shoved off of the ledge of the pit that held these boxed feelings, falling face-first into them. If she had known she would react this strongly to seeing him, she probably would have kept her eyes shut when she saw him taking his mask off. She had half been anticipating, almost hoping, that what was hidden behind the mask was proof and validation of the horrors that he committed and thus convincing her that he was a monster who didn't deserve her feelings. Instead what she saw was a man who had been physically marred to the point of needing assistance and medication from the mask, not seeming to care about either his scarring or his handicap. And his lips. Her face started to turn red again, imagining those unexpectedly perfect lips on an otherwise imperfect face.

Myra felt herself being awkward. She simply couldn't help it. She felt like she was thrust into the presence of a high-school crush who only regarded her as wallpaper. She even had the misfortune of blushing further, her entire face now fully blanketed in tomato red when Bane moved up behind her and settled both of his hands on her waist to guide her into a specific stance.

"Are you listening?"

Myra's eyes snapped up as if caught red handed, or in this instance – _tomato faced_, nodding furiously to indicate that she had been listening. Of course, she hadn't been. She couldn't stop thinking about his lips.

Bane narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, letting out an irritated grunt.

"Then what did I say?" he asked, challenging her for an answer.

Myra stared straight forward, her hands clenching into a fist, not wanting to admit to him that she hadn't been listening.

"…to stay on my lips? I MEAN TOES! To stay on my toes!" Myra stammered out. _Idiot. _

Bane didn't respond right away, which thoroughly unsettled Myra since he was directly behind her and holding her at the waist, Myra not ignoring the disadvantaged position she was in.

Ignoring Bane's instruction was behavior that was uncharacteristic of Myra, who had been an apt pupil up to this point. Sure, she had her failings physically, but she never failed to listen to his instruction.

Bane waited a few more moments before using the grip he had on her waist to spin her around to face him suddenly, looking down at her beat red face.

"Why is your face red? Are you ill?" Bane questioned.

Myra only stared back at him; her eyes as large as saucers.

"Yes," she managed to spit out quickly, snatching up the opportunity for a less humiliating excuse.

Bane stared down at her, searching her face and her complexion. He gave a gentle snort audible through his mask before releasing the grip he had on her waist, stepping away from her and raising a hand flippantly to dismiss her.

"Very well. We'll continue this tomorrow when you are no longer _ill," _Bane said with condescension.

Myra allowed herself to release a breath, feeling as if she had been holding it for minutes. The tone he used when saying 'ill' was not missed by Myra, who started to wonder if he suspected what may have caused her enflamed complexion. That notion, of course, brought a new spread of red across her face as she turned away quickly to exit to her room.

* * *

The next day, they met again for their regular self-defense practice. Bane looked her over and didn't see any remnants of her 'illness' from yesterday, so decided to proceed. However, Bane took pleasure in testing people, having his suspicions of what her condition from the day before was. When he stood in front of her and placed his hands on her hips to angle them correctly over her feet in a proper stance, the redness in her face came back. Bane saw it immediately, almost as if he were waiting for it and ready to pounce.

"What is this?" he said almost teasingly.

Myra played dumb.

"What is what?" she asked innocently.

Bane humored her by allowing her to play dumb but brought a hand up to quickly swipe a thumb across her cheeks as if he were trying to swipe up tangible evidence.

"This redness," he replied.

Myra continued with her act.

"I must be ill again," she said.

Bane let his hand fall back down to settle on her hip; his eyebrows rose as he tilted his chin back just slightly to gaze down at her from over the mouthpiece of his mask.

"No….I don't think that's it," he said provokingly.

Myra seemed to let her eyes wander around the room, settling on anything and everything but Bane who stood in front of her and took up most of her field of vision. Bane grew tired of her aimless eye wandering, bringing his hand back up to snatch her chin, aiming her head to face him.

"Look at me," he ordered.

Myra let her eyes wander for several more moments, knowing she was testing his limits by doing so but didn't care, before she finally let her eyes settle on his almost lazily.

Bane looked down at her as if he were analyzing her for a secret plague, turning her chin to the left and the right before angling it back to face him.

"Curious," was his only reply.

Myra's eyes widened at his comment, the look on his face as if he had spotted some sort of cancer or alien creature on her face. Fear swelled in her chest.

"What is?" she asked hurriedly.

Bane finished his exam with one last sweep of his eyes over her face before replying.

"I do believe you are blushing," he said teasingly.

Myra almost lost it, her eyebrows furrowing and anger flashing in her eyes, bringing her hands up finally to push herself off his chest and propel away from him, despising the way he was teasing her.

"Stop it!" she shouted.

She even managed to make it several steps away from him before she felt a hand reach out and grab hers, stopping her in her tracks before feeling a soft tug that forced her closer to face him. Bane let his other hand resettle on her hip, the hand that held her hand firm and not letting go. He looked down at her, noting her angered expression, which of course only amused him.

"Now now, no need to be angry," he said teasingly, amusingly.

Being told 'not to be angry' was of course, something that made Myra angry. She tried tugging her hand from his grip, and when her hand broke free it was immediately captured again by his as if he were toying with her like a cat toyed with a mouse. The redness in her face was amplified by the sudden flush of anger she was feeling.

"Ahh, your face appears to be getting even redder!" he barked with amusement.

Complete embarrassment overtook her senses, which of course made her irrational. Tears started swelling at the corner of her eyes as she scowled at him, pausing just briefly with her attempts at disengaging with his hand to gather strength before going at it again with renewed vigor.

"Let go of me!" she demanded.

Bane eased his teasing when he saw that he may have pushed her a bit too far beyond her comfort, the creases at the corners of his eyes indicating a smile or a laugh behind the mask quickly dissolving as he regarded her mood, wanting her to understand he was now being serious. His voice dropped into a tone that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up and goosebumps populated her skin.

"No, I don't think I will," he crooned.

Myra froze from his declaration for a moment before attempting to lean away from him instead as if the tension she generated might snap them apart if she leaned far enough away from him. His hold on her hand was reinforced, bending his arm to bring her even closer to him as he brought his other hand up to cup her cheek, letting the tip of his thumb nestle at the corner of her eye to capture the moisture that had settled there.

"Shh…I'm done teasing," he said soothingly.

Myra finally allowed herself to relax by the unexpected and soothing touch of Bane that seemed so natural and unnatural at the same time. It was a paradox. She felt herself being lulled into submission as the hold on her hand softened, several of his fingers gingerly intertwining with hers. She was shocked by the unexpected gentleness and delicate gesture that she would had assumed he was incapable of based on who he was and what he represented. She started wondering whether the feelings she was experiencing were even rationale. _He's a mercenary….he's killed people. _The rationale part of her brain was overcome by the irrational sensory side of herself, disregarding these thoughts and only craving more of his attention and his touch. She leaned forward like a moth attracted to a flame.

The hand on her cheek, after completing the task of clearing the moisture from her eye, moved to the back of her head to intertwine his fingers into her hair and gently worked her scalp. Myra's eyes fluttered to the grill of his mask, her lids half blanketing her eyes from the sensations he was instilling into her. She stared at it, transfixed by both the mechanical nature of it, but also by the potential that lay just behind it as she imagined the lips that were covered by it, mere inches away from her own. It confused her to recall initially seeing it weeks ago and finding it repulsive; frightening even, but now…Myra lost her train of thought as she eventually closed her eyes at the sensual touch of his hand on the back of her head, his fingers finding all of the right nerve endings along her scalp to cause her skin to tingle and celebrate at being stimulated. She reflexively brought her free hand up to his chest, clutching the top of it near the base of his neck, letting her fingers graze his exposed skin and wondering what she did to deserve being showered with this kind of unexpected affection.

The moment was short-lived, however. Her eyes snapped open as she heard footsteps and felt the vibration of boots on matted floor as someone entered the sparring area, anxiety taking over her.

"Sir, something you should look at," Barsad said as he entered the room with a folder in his hand, eyeing both of them where they stood but seemed unphased by what he saw.

Myra was already in the throes of ferociously trying to disengage with Bane before someone had a chance to visually capture their encounter. Bane, however, appeared as if he could care less who saw him engaging in a public display of affection. Bane's hold on her hand had tightened reflexively when he sensed she was about to take flight, her head already maneuvered out and under from the hand that was interwoven in her hair, leaving a big patch of tangled mess at the back of her head. Bane didn't immediately acknowledge Barsad, but instead was still focused on Myra and her feverish attempts at removing herself from the situation. He finally released his hold on her hand after seeing her struggle for several moments. His release of her hand was so abrupt that it almost caused her to stumble and fall on her bottom. She did lurch clumsily but righted herself almost immediately before stalking off past Barsad, avoiding his eyes.

"Report," Bane barked, as his eyes followed Myra as she exited the room in a hurry, knowing she was retreating back to the comfort of her cot.

**Author: Don't forget to let me know what you think :D **


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

_**Author: If you are reading this story and even moderately enjoying it; or even if you didn't and want to provide feedback; LEAVE A REVIEW. DO IT. Let me know what you think! What do you like? What don't you like? I'd love to hear from you! **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

Bane gave Myra her space following what ended up as Myra reacting like a cornered cat. Bane was even absent for several days, which helped ease any discomfort or embarrassment Myra may have felt from their physical encounter. When Bane returned, however, they resumed their self-defense training as if nothing happened, though redness would periodically rise in Myra's cheeks depending on the situation. Bane chose to be polite and ignore it.

Bane also had a new point of contact regarding Myra's hostage situation. Following the planned takeover of Wayne Enterprises by Tahlia, John Daggett was less than pleased. This led to an altercation between him and Bane. The encounter ended with John Daggett's neck being snapped and his body tossed into a dumpster, with his Executive Vice President Phillip Stryver now assuming leadership of Daggett Industries. This also had the implications that Phillip Stryver resume the work that John Daggett had conducted concerning pushing the police towards a hostage exchange between two of Bane's men for Myra.

Leading up to John Daggett's death, Bane had found himself considerably easing the pressure on Daggett concerning driving the police towards a quick resolution. He wasn't sure if it was because he detested working with John Daggett and his superiority complex, or if it was because he was becoming use to the routine of having Myra around. Or quite frankly, even a third option in that he enjoyed her added presence.

However, Phillip Stryver had a fear of Bane that John Daggett did not possess which undoubtedly led to his own death. Once Phillip Stryver assumed command of Daggett Industries, he worked overtime with the police to resolve the hostage situation. This knowledge was constantly on Bane's mind as he interacted with Myra, knowing that any minute could potentially be their last.

Myra had been granted some measure of freedom since she had been taken hostage, which usually implied that she was allowed to escort herself to and from Bane's room to the sparring room when she wasn't holed up in her utility closet during the evenings and nights, where she was locked and enclosed for the night until someone fetched her in the morning to repeat the routine the next day. She was also allowed to sometimes enjoy freedoms and liberties outside of Bane's room during the day, which usually stretched as far as walking herself to the dining area or playing cards or another game or activity with Barsad directly outside of her room under the canopy that protected the electrical equipment from water damage. She didn't make any notion or attempt at escape, knowing her freedoms were precarious and that she had no real idea on how to actually get out of the underwater reflow system. That was her rational reasoning; in reality, she was comfortable with her routine and didn't want to ruin it.

During one of these card games with Barsad, she noticed Bane receiving a phone call while he was monitoring the electrical equipment displaying various information next to her and Barsad. When he answered it and determined who was calling him, he sauntered away enough from her and Barsad to be just out of ear shot so that he wouldn't be overheard. Myra's curiosity was peaked mildly.

The phone call was from Phillip Striver informing Bane that the police were attempting to keep his men as long as they could so that they could extract information from them. This was news Bane already knew from John Daggett. Additionally, he knew his men were not going to talk. That's why he chose them in the first place for the mission. "They will fail if that is their intent", Bane said irritably.

Striver continued on.

"Well…depending on what kind of techniques the police use, maybe one of them will talk…?"

Bane cut him off immediately.

"No. They would die first before talking."

Stryver was silent before replying, "You couldn't have picked a lousier hostage; she's a dud. No one is stepping forward to demand she be released, aside from Daggett Industries. She's also only an intern and she's _new_. We barely even know her; it doesn't seem sincere for us to even be asking for her to be released."

When Phillip Stryver said this, Bane's eyes turned towards Myra playing cards with Barsad. Myra sensed his eyes on her and lifted hers up to return his gaze. She didn't know what compelled her to do so, but she smiled sheepishly back at him before letting her smile falter after realizing how awkward it was to smile at him like that. She averted her gaze back down to her cards, focusing on the game pointedly to avoid embarrassment. _Why do you do idiot things, smiling at him like that. _

"We'll speak more of this later," Bane said before hanging up and making his way to Barsad and Myra. "Take her back to the parking garage room for the night", Bane ordered Barsad. Barsad put his cards down on the make-shift table made of boxes with a sigh, Myra doing the same though she shuffled the cards in her hand as if she had been on the verge of winning before also putting them down on the table.

Barsad led Myra down one of the outflow hallways before digging into his pocket and pulling out the blindfold, handing it over to Myra. Myra was so use to this routine that she simply took it and put it on herself with no fuss. She knew they were taking precautions so that she wouldn't be able to identify where the exit or entry point was to their main base set-up.

Once they made it to the metal rusty ladder that led up through a manhole, she took the blindfold off and climbed up the ladder after Barsad. They made their way to the bottom of the underground parking garage where she entered the room obediently. "Have a good night", he said politely before Myra heard the door close and click indicating it was locked from the outside. She settled on top of one of the sleeping bags before grabbing a book and making herself comfortable for the night.

* * *

Several hours later, Phillip Stryver called again.

The inflection in his voice and the note of panic was obvious to Bane as soon as he answered the phone.

"The police have men on their way right now to the location that video you released of the girl. They figured out where it was based on some nondescript cement building pattern on the wall…or some fucking thing, I don't know," Stryver said hurriedly. "I hope it's no where important."

Bane hung up without even acknowledging or saying another word to Stryver before he was storming towards the exit of the water outflow system base to the underground parking garage where Myra was kept. He was enraged. Enraged that the police were so fool-hearty as to attempt to extract a hostage. He was also enraged that he had been so foolish as to capture a video with enough physical evidence displayed in the video for the police to identify the _exact building_ in which it was filmed. Bane rarely made tactical mistakes like that, and when he did, he was most definitely not pleased.

The combination of both his internal failings from a tactical perspective as well as the bold behavior displayed by the police led him to do irrational things. He didn't bring anyone with him when he stormed out of the underground base, thinking only of attempting to rectify the situation by extracting and removing Myra before the police arrived.

When he finally made it to the underground parking garage and stormed his way down to the utility closet, he observed that the utility closet door was wide open as he began approaching. He hurried his steps, practically barreling himself forward and finally through the door.

As soon as Bane made it through the door, Bane knew he made a mistake; possibly even a fatal mistake. As he was barreling through, he failed to check the corners of the room directly on either side of the door. As soon as he stopped, he felt a pair of pistols at his back.

"On your knees NOW. Raise your hands! We have orders to shoot on sight if needed – don't think we won't hesitate," an officer behind Bane's backed yelled at him. As Bane got onto his knees, he looked behind him and saw two officers with their guns aimed directly at his back. He looked into the other corner and saw Myra with another officer directly in front of her as if he were protecting her from Bane's unexpected arrival. This officer also had his gun directly aimed at Bane.

Myra was just as surprised at the arrival of Bane as the officers were, her surprise and shock interpreted by the officers as fear. Myra observed Bane's rigid body kneeling, vulnerable on the floor with three pistols aimed directly at him. She saw him turn his head slightly and his eyes made direct contact with hers. The look that she was expecting was one of rage, frustration, and anger - but the look he gave her made her heart stop and her breath catch. His eyes were unwavering and focused upon hers, enlarged, soft, with a look of…of relief? _Why did he look relieved?_ Her heart started beating irregularly. _You aren't gone yet, you idiot._

Myra stared back at him, searching his expression to confirm her suspicions. His look was unwavering upon hers, his attention entirely on her and he alone could care less that death was on his heals. She swallowed, before allowing her eyes to shift to the officer 'protecting' her in front of her between her and Bane. She looked back at Bane one more time, his eyes still soft and unwavering from hers as if she was the only thing that existed in the room.

"Sir? Do we have permission to shoot on site? Hostile targeted, ready for your order," one officer hurriedly shouted into a radio attached to their shoulder. As he did this, he ground his teeth. "Son of a bitch killed my partner…I should just do it and say he attacked us…" the officer continued on, expressing his own internal thoughts. The other two officers looked considerably uncomfortable at the proposition but neither of them objected.

Myra snapped out of her daze, allowing her focus to settle on the gun that the officer 'protecting' her was holding which was aimed directly at Bane. She looked back at Bane quickly, who despite hearing the perilous and murderous insinuations of the situation from the police officer pointing a gun at him, still considered to gaze softly at Myra.

Before Myra had time to think, before she had time to truly contemplate her actions, to truly understand the scope of what it was she was about to do, she lurched forward to duck underneath the police officer's arms, pushing his gun up and away from Bane's direct line of sight which caused the gun to go off from the officer's reflexes on the trigger. This distraction led the other two officers to snap their focus on her and the officer in the corner, which was all the distraction Bane needed.

Bane sprung from his kneeled position, spinning around and with a giant monstrous sweep of the arm, punched the first officer in the throat while using his other hand to grab the officer's face and smash it into the wall like putty. The officer that had been directly in front of Myra and who had discharged his weapon turned around and pushed her back against the wall where she ultimately stumbled onto her bottom. The officer spun around just in time to see a giant mass snare his vision into blackness, a hand squeezing his skull tightly before unceremoniously being ground into the concrete wall with a sickening crunch.

Myra stayed on the ground in complete shock at the carnage being laid before her. She didn't have the advantage of bringing her hands up to cover her face to block out the nightmarish images. She was transfixed. She was nauseous. She lurched to the side as she unloaded the contents of her stomach. After the contents of her stomach had been thoroughly dispelled, she brought her knees up to her chest and began to shake, closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to block the images. _They were trying to protect me…they came here to rescue me. You killed them. They were innocent police officers just doing their job. They had families. They didn't deserve this. _

Bane, in the meantime, moved towards her and bent down, ignoring her vomit and her obvious state of shock and put his hand around her arm. She struggled from him briefly, but he pulled her to her feet with one swift motion. Myra's balance and state of shock caused her to stumble and fall to the side though Bane's firm grip on her arm prevented her from falling to the ground. Thoughts of her actions and consequences swarmed her head. The sheer magnitude of what she did. She was responsible for the deaths of three good men. And for what? _For someone that…that kidnapped me. Held me hostage. Held me…_

Bane was out the door in a hurry, practically dragging Myra along at his side who continued to stumble and struggle, the scraping of her shoes heard periodically as her feet bent at an awkward angle and dragged before righting themselves. Bane's patience with her fumbling attempts at keeping up were resolved when he bent his arm to bring her closer, bending his body forward to scoop her up into a firm hold. Instead of having a calming effect at no longer being dragged, her heart immediately began to putter. Her eyes were immediately transfixed to his mask, mere inches from her own face. She wrapped her arms around his neck for balance.

The first physical sensation Myra came to focus on was his intense body heat. She also couldn't tell whether he was breathing heavy which caused his mask to make periodic 'shhing' sounds, or if it was his verbal attempts at calming her down from her obvious state of shock. Myra couldn't help but fixate on the actual shape and color of his eyes. Her heart began to pound against her chest. Bane's eyes shifted to look at hers, sensing her gaze.

Bane huffed slightly, readjusting her in his arms, his pace hurried, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes regaining their steely focus to detect any additional threats and his only concern being to get out of here with no further complications.

* * *

Bane relocated Myra to his room permanently, though he inwardly referred to it as 'her room' now that she spent a vast majority of her time there – more so than he did. Bane also made sure to continue on with their routine as if nothing had happened, hoping to keep her mind off of the events that had transpired with the police. He was ready to respond if he sensed any grief or trepidation on her part, knowing depression could be one's worst enemy.

Bane knew Myra had undoubtedly undergone moral torment from the decision she made in inadvertently aiding in the slaying of three officers who were there to extract her from the hostage situation. He also knew that decision would most likely haunt her for the rest of her life. He also would have willingly carried that burden of inner anguish and torment for her if he could, but he knew that was impossible. So he decided distraction and routine was the best form of medicine for now.

Myra did not show up to for sparring practice the following day, however. Bane did not like to be kept waiting, nor did he appreciate individuals being unpunctual regardless of any inner torment an individual may be experiencing, so when she failed to show up several minutes past their usual scheduled sparring time he immediately began stomping towards her room.

He entered the room without knocking or announcing himself, letting his eyes search the room before fully entering but already knowing she was going to be settled on the bed. The blanket fully covered her, but Bane saw a hand sneak out to clutch the corner of the blanket and tugging it up to further to shield her head after she undoubtedly heard him enter.

Bane seethed silently before stomping towards the bed, waiting for her to show herself. "You're late", he barked.

"I'm not feeling well," Myra said softly. Simply.

"That excuse again?" Bane said, knowing that was her go-to excuse for avoiding uncomfortable situations. He lost his patience and instead grabbed her blanket and ripped it off of her with a vicious tug. Myra was lying in a fetal position, wearing the usual sweatpants and loose tank top she used as pajamas indicating she hadn't even gotten up to prepare for her training. When the blanket was pulled away from her, she shrunk deeper into a fetal position, her back facing him. This irritated Bane, who threw the blanket into the corner of the room to highlight his annoyance.

"If you aren't up in 5 seconds, you'll regret it – I can promise you," Bane threatened with no indication at humor.

Myra's eyes had been open during this whole ordeal, and of course they grew larger at the threat laced in his tone. Myra has always been a curious woman, and part of her almost _wanted_ to know what would happen after 5 seconds and she wasn't up. She also knew she was suffering inwardly from depression and was skirting along the fine edge of being considered suicidal. She hadn't slept all night, images of the previous day plastered in her mind making it difficult to rest or sleep. She felt herself become irrationally emboldened with her lack of self-preservation. She let the lids of her eyes drop slyly and looked to the side, deciding to wait it out and see what would happen. She inwardly counted to five, feeling Bane's eyes boring into the back of her head. When her count reached to 10 (she may have been counting a bit too fast to begin with), she felt him move behind her.

She felt a pair of masculine hands grab her from behind, one gripping her upper arm to force her onto her back as the other one reached over her to grip her other upper arm, hoisting her up and out of bed.

"I believe I've been spoiling you too excessively," Bane said as if lecturing a child.

Once fully hoisted out of bed, he kept her slightly elevated off the floor, the tips of her toes not making clearance with the floor. Myra simply gawked at him, curiosity piqued to see what he would do but sensibility and fear also making their way into her common senses. Bane gave her a look-over, noting huge dark circles under her eyes despite her having been in bed undoubtedly all day and all night; he wouldn't even be surprised if she had stayed in the cot since he had initially relocated her. He could also tell, based on her haggard appearance and dark circles, that she hadn't been sleeping well (if at all) most likely due to the mental anguish she was experiencing from the slaying of the three police officers.

Bane dismissed her appearance and made his way into the bathroom, positioning her under the shower, releasing her and letting her drop on her bottom to the floor. He turned the shower on and then bent down to put a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from moving. Cold water sprayed down directly on top of Myra, her body and clothing becoming soaked. Some of the water that fell down and ricocheted off of Myra splashed at Bane, but he remained relatively unphased. When she began to struggle, he reinforced the hold he had on her shoulder so that she was forced to endure the discomfort of being dowsed in her pajamas in icy cold water.

A good solid minute went by before Bane finally turned off the shower, watching her sputter and frantically wipe water and hair out of her eyes with amusement.

"There. That should help with your _illness," _Bane sneered.

Myra responded by bringing her knees up and both of her hands up to cover her chest, obviously soaked and most definitely immodest, but the chill of being soaking wet in frigid cold water compelled her to rub her hands against her arms vigorously. The glare she gave him as she looked up at him from the tiled floor would give any normal man chills, but it only brought Bane slight amusement.

Bane took a step away from her in an invitation to let her pass him back into the bedroom. She sprang at the opportunity, lifting herself up clumsily from the floor and marching past him with her posture slightly hunched as if to capture any remaining heat her body held in her chest. When she got to the center of the bedroom, she circled it for several seconds before turning back to him, her teeth chattering and pointing her finger at the exit.

"Get…out…" she stammered, a pool of water forming at her feet as water dropped off her body.

Bane's eyes crinkled in amusement as he sauntered out of the bathroom, moving to the exit before turning towards her.

"I'll give you 2 minutes and you better be ready," Bane said.

Myra only glared at him, not acknowledging his order but instead continued to let her teeth chatter and moved forward to slam the door after him.

Myra stripped off her wet clothes immediately, draping them over the door of the bathroom in hopes that they would dry relatively soon due to the lack of apparel options afforded her. She grabbed the only towel in the bathroom and began vigorously drying herself off. She moved back to the bedroom and stood in front of the pedestal sink and the mirror to aid in the process of drying her hair. As she ran the towel through her hair, gazing at the mirror, it reminded her of the evening she had seen Bane's unmasked reflection in the mirror.

_No no no. STOP. _Myra closed her eyes shut, smacking her hand at the side of her head. _Stop it, you idiot. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop _thinking_ about him. _Myra felt conflicted; she knew if she steered her thoughts away from Bane, they would resettle back on images of the slain police officers. She decided to settle on the more positive imagery, as her mind shifted back to the shape and look of Bane's lips. She felt redness creep up into her face again as she bent forward to clutch the edge of the pedestal sink, dropping the towel to the ground.

When she heard the door to the bedroom begin to open, her eyes shot open and she immediately crouched down to pick up the towel in an attempt to retrieve it and cover herself before Bane came in. Bane looked at her as if he wasn't seeing a half-naked wet woman in his room.

"You still aren't ready? Have you not learned your lesson?" he said threateningly.

Myra kept fidgeting with the towel, looking down to make sure that it covered the appropriate areas but feeling one slight tug upwards to cover her breasts only meant less surface area of the towel to cover her thighs and crotch, which of course lead into a vicious cycle of tugging the towel up and down. She was looking down as she continued this awkward display, before a wave of boldness induced by her apparent lack of self-preservation considering her tormented mindset washed over her.

"No," she said before she could stop herself. Once the words were out of her lips, though, she owned up to them and even lifted her chin up at him confidently and let her chest puff out even slightly in the hopes of displaying her confidence.

Bane regarded her comment, fully entering the room and closing the door behind him so that no prying eyes would be able to see Myra in the towel, respecting her privacy in that regard. He casually strolled towards her, his weight shifting dramatically from one foot to the other as he came closer with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh?" he said, uncrossing his arms to allow for a hand to reach out and take hold of her chin so that he could examine her face properly. "It doesn't appear that the cold shower did the trick".

Myra knew he was making a double innuendo at both the fact that she was being mildly insubordinate as well as the fact that her face was now fully flushed. Her eyes settled on his as he regarded her, before finally letting her eyes drop down his mask and settled on the spot where his lips would be.

Bane's breathing was amplified through his mask as he continued to analyze her, the hold on her chin softening but maintaining its position. Bane brought his other hand forward slowly, settling on her hand that was fidgeting at the corner of her towel over her thighs. He engulfed her hand with his, easing her hand away from the hold she had on the towel and guiding it to his chest, the same spot where she had reflexively clutched at the day before. Once her hand was settled on his chest, he removed his hand from hers only to repeat the process with her other hand that was positioned over her breast. When he eased her grip away from the towel, her grip being the only thing that kept the towel up and from falling from the floor, he let his eyes dart down. The imagery that he saw reminded him of a sheet covering a prized sculpture being whisked away to present the grand display behind the fabric. Myra still had remnants of moisture covering her skin, but what he saw pleased him to put it mildly. His eyes to roamed over her body, before bringing them back up to hers.

Being in this compromised position made Myra bashful and awkward, and as soon as the towel got whisked away she compulsively curled her body inward in a display of modesty and tried angling her elbows inward to cover herself appropriately. After several moments of being eyeballed by Bane she started to feel extremely shy and embarrassed, unable to interpret whether he approved or was disappointed. When she moved a hand from his chest in an attempt to further cover herself, Bane wasn't having it.

"Don't. Your beautiful," he said gruffly, staring straight at her as if nothing else existed in the room.

Myra's cheeks flamed at his rare compliment, her eyes gazing back at his before she felt shy again and her eyes faltered and roamed off to the side. Bane took a half a step forward to bring himself even closer. It took all of Myra's willpower not to reflexively back up into the pedestal sink, aware of his mass and his strength.

Bane moved his hand to cup the side of her face, his other hand moving to rest on her shoulder before slowly gliding down her arm. The feeling of his fingers against her bare skin left it tingling, her lips slightly parting at the sensation. Bane's eyes darted to the movement of her lips, seeing no indication that she was in distress or uncomfortable. This emboldened him as his hand glided back up her arm, briefly making contact with her shoulder and across her collar bone before falling south down her chest.

Myra took a quick intake of breath as she felt a large, warm, calloused hand glide over her breast, cupping it before moving back up to repeat the gesture. Myra's lips opened wider but only to react to the sudden heaviness of breath she was feeling in her lungs. Bane continued to watch her for any indicator on her part that she was uncomfortable or repulsed, and after stroking her breast a second time and only seeing traces of curiosity mixed with a form of pleasure dance across her face, he made his move.

He reached forward and behind her with both hands suddenly, cupping her bottom firmly and lifting her up against him, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist as he turned them around and sauntered towards the cot. Myra reflexively curled her legs and thighs around him for support, but also clutched at the lapel of his jacket for dear life due to the suddenness and intensity of the act of picking her up and the centrifugal force of them turning around. She even momentarily forgot about her nakedness. Only for a moment, of course.

When he got to the cot, he leaned forward and let her fall back into it, softly coaxing her legs to disengage from his waist so that he could begin to remove his items of clothing.

Myra stared up at him from her back, his eyes unwavering from hers as he removed his clothing. The imagery of the intense, almost primal stare he gave her paired with the act of removing and discarding his clothing caused Myra to squirm, feeling warmth gathering and settling between her thighs. Her ears started to ring, her eyes glistening from the emotional intensity and built up frustration of the situation. Her body also instinctively reacted to his lustful stare with a subtle arch of her back and easing her knees and thighs apart invitingly, her mind in too much of a haze to realize or control the instinctual movements her body made.

When Bane saw her back arch slightly and her legs begin to part, the fervor in which he removed his clothes intensified. He practically tore them off. He let out a huff that sounded like a growl through his mask that caused a shiver to travel up her spine. His last pieces of clothing he removed was his back brace, which he did with care, followed by his pants, and finally his underwear briefs. He reinstated his back brace after removing his pants and moving the waistband of his briefs down enough to remove them later, knowing his back was going to undergo some level of exertion which would be infinitely more comfortable with the brace. Myra watched with impatience but could already see a large bulge straining against the fabric of his briefs threatening to tear through the fabric. Another shiver ran up her spine as she shyly observed the bulge, both in anticipation but also with slight trepidation due to his size. _Is it possible to be TOO big? Will he even fit? Wait...what the hell am I doing? Is this too sudden? Does this feel rushed? No...it doesn't 'feel' rushed..it feels...Wait, why am I letting him do this? He's…killed people….But- I let people die to protect him…..He's..._

Myra's thoughts did a mental whiplash back and forth between the justification of right and wrong of the situation. She was experiencing the same dangerous level of curiosity she had felt just moments earlier when she refused to get out of bed at the count of 5; she was curious to know what would happen if she saw this through. She could tell by the look that Bane was giving her and the gentleness he subscribed to treating her was his way of letting her now that he was aware of the tremendous weight she added on to her psyche from allowing those police officers die; all in a move to protect him, and he was _enormously_ grateful. Myra knew perfectly well that his current actions could be a simple move by Bane to show his gratitude. Myra felt there were definitely worse ways to show someone gratitude.

She was in an extremely compromised position both physically and mentally, yet she didn't feel like she was. If anything, she hasn't felt this sure about anything since…_Since when? _She knew what was going to happen; she was willingly inviting someone else to enter her body. _Bane._ That thought alone indicated that she had a significant amount of trust towards that individual who was going to penetrate her body and briefly inhabit it with their own. That notion made her squirm. Metaphorical imagery of a person being invitingly asked into a house with a huge 'welcome' mat outside the front door popped into her mind. _Stop thinking so much…_

Myra's thoughts were wiped clear as Bane finally released himself from the confines of his underwear, letting them drop to the floor. Myra had a second to glimpse his nakedness before he was hovering over her, bringing his hand to rest palm-down by her head for leverage of his weight with one arm while the other hand found its way to her thighs. His hand at her thigh willed her legs further apart with care, his eyes fixated on hers as he performed his task. She could only return his stare as she felt her legs blossom open for him, feeling him lean his body forward between her knees to keep them open. Her knees rested on either side of him against the leather brace he wore at his waist.

Once that task was done, he allowed his hand to travel to her inner thigh until they brushed her womanly folds. His knuckles grazed over her softly, before one of his fingers swiped her opening. What he found caused him to huff out a seemingly aggressive breath through his mask in satisfaction, causing more goosebumps to find their way across her body. She was absolutely dripping with eagerness, with _wetness. _He let his finger linger, before testing her opening by sliding his finger in to determine the ease in which his finger entered her. It glided in smoothly without any friction whatsoever.

Myra inhaled sharply at the intrusion of his finger, knowing she must be soaking wet – almost embarrassingly eager. The feeling of his fingers against her, _inside of her_, was causing her toes to curl with pleasure. She reflexively brought her hands up to grip either side of his face as if she needed an anchor to focus her energy on to. As his finger pumped lightly into her, his thumb made its way to her sensitive nub further up her folds. He rubbed it gently in unison with his finger, which now curled and uncurled against her inner flesh to stimulate her further. Myra lost her mind. The breath that she inhaled seconds earlier was finally released in a very soft moan, her legs bending and unbending as if they were unsure what to do or how to respond to the intense sexual pleasure. She didn't care that they were beginning to get rubbed raw from the friction against the leather brace he wore.

Bane continued to watch her with his brows now furrowed as if in slight concentration. He serviced her for several more moments before dislodging his fingers, seemingly satisfied with the results. Despite it being undoubtedly pleasurable for her, the activities of his fingers also ensured she was stimulated enough for him to enter her without causing her pain or injury. Myra could feel disappointment rise in her chest but knew he had bigger plans for her.

Bane grabbed his penis with his free hand and guided it to her moistened entrance. He inserted the head just barely, her folds parting with ease around the head, not fully entering her but putting him in the position where all he needed to do was provide one solid thrust and he would completely penetrate her. Once settled, he brought the hand that helped guide him to rest palm-down on the other side of her head, caging her head in with both of his hands. He looked down at her pointedly as if giving her one last chance to protest or change her mind. She held his face between both of her hands lightly, one thumb idly tracing the contour of his mask, gazing back up at him. When all he saw in her expression with lips parted with pleasure, _eagerness_, and want clearly played across her face threatening to burst from the anticipation, he propelled his hips forward with one powerful thrust.

Myra could feel her insides strain and possibly tear from the intrusion, even causing her to wince in pain and her fingers constrict against the skin on his face at the stretch she was feeling despite her state of arousal and lubrication. Bane was a huge man, everything about him was massive; the body part that found its way inside Myra was proportionate to the rest of him. She could feel him push all the way inside in what felt like to her very core, the head of his manhood reaching her cervix. It felt like a solid hard thick copper artillery shell driving deep inside of her. Bane settled, thankfully, and didn't attempt to remove himself and repeat the gesture until her body had ample time to respond, expand, and accommodate him. Bane let a husky groan escape from his lips from the sheer tightness and grip she had around him which highlighted her lack of recent sexual encounters. Bane observed her during the process, knowing she would undoubtedly undergo pain during the initial penetration due to his size. He waited until the tenseness in her face eased and her hands holding his face softened, indicating that her body had responded, accepted, and adapted to his. With that signal, he proceeded.

Bane was practically a machine, steam powered with willpower and grit. His strength, stamina, and intensity were unparalleled to anyone Myra has ever known. She knew that was partially what attracted her to him. She also knew his potential physically and knew despite the ferocity and force in which he thrust into her was astounding, she also knew that he was actively holding himself back else he injure and cripple her. The cot squealed and screamed from the weight of their bodies, the fabric straining with effort with every thrust Bane delivered.

Myra found the rise of an orgasm slowly forming and on the verge of erupting much sooner than she had anticipated considering the initial pain and discomfort she experienced. He was grinding into her at just the right angle, pausing at just the right moments, looking at her with just the right hunger in his eyes; it was difficult if not impossible for her to think or focus on anything else. She even made an attempt to will the orgasm from breaking free so soon, wanting to enjoy this moment with Bane because in this moment she didn't have to think or feel anything else except the look he gifted her and the feel of his body inside of her. However, when she did come, it was an eruption of senses; her back arched convulsively, her mouth opening in a silent scream before a low moan erupted from a deep pocket in her chest which slowly formed into the word "Bane". She threw her hands down to the cot to steady herself, shutting her eyes in hopes of taking back control of her senses, her toes curling and uncurling into the rough wool military blanket on the cot.

Bane watched her and felt her come beneath him, never ceasing his movements but watching idly and patiently as she bucked slightly from sheer pleasure. When Bane finally did come inside of her, it was practically an explosion, for nothing Bane ever did was mild. Myra even startled slightly at the magnitude of it, feeling the intensity of his release shooting its way up deep inside her with astounding force. The gasp she released from her lips wasn't just purely from the pleasure she was feeling, but also from the shock and startlement she felt from the force and intensity of his release.

Bane eased his movements, slowing down before finally releasing a huff through his mask that sounded like a gorilla claiming his territory. Beads of sweat littered his brow and dripped down the sides of his face, a few making the plunge from his skin to fall down onto Myra. A sheen of perspiration coated the rest of his body from the exertion. He kept his arms positioned on either side of her head which were used to leverage himself up off of her. He looked around the room briefly as if in confusion while he gathered his breath, stars dancing in front of his vision before letting his eyes finally settle back down on hers.

He finally removed himself from inside her after catching his breath. As he did, he shifted his weight on the cot just briefly. The strain of the fabric in the cot moaned, screamed, and then finally broke. They both crashed through the cot onto the floor. Myra banged the back of her head against the hard-tiled floor with Bane falling partially on top of her, though his reflexes were quick enough to where he was able to prevent most of his weight from squishing her by bringing his arms out.

Myra groaned in pain, bringing a hand to the back of her head to rub the spot where it made contact with the floor, one eye closing in a squint. Then a giggle erupted from her mouth. Bane's reaction was slightly more intense, his eyes fierce and his body rigid as if trying to decipher the situation and whether there was any possibility of a threat. After several moments of letting his head shift to the side to assure there wasn't anything sinister behind the cot breaking, he let his eyes fall back on hers and observed her giggling. He didn't reciprocate, but instead observed her with moderate curiosity. He brought his hands palm-down on either side of her head to keep himself leveraged up, the same as before, and kept his body rolled off of her less he accidentally squash her.

After several moments of watching her giggling fit, he let out a sigh as he maneuvered himself so that her body was no longer on the floor but now comfortably on his, deciding to settle on the floor under the tattered canopy of the destroyed cot. He moved his hand to her back and began lazily tracing his fingers up and down her spine, sounds of relaxation and contentedness heard through the grill of his mask mixed with the remnants of her giggling fit.

* * *

After they had settled for several moments, it being impossible to decipher who's sweat belonged to whom as she lay partially over him across his chest, she gazed up into his mask.

"Can I see you without your mask?" she asked timidly.

Bane's hand that was stroking her up and down along the spine stopped as he regarded her request, taking several moments to consider her question before resuming his gesture.

"No," he said simply.

Myra squirmed away from him as if affronted so that she could lean up on her elbow to glare at him. "Why not?", she retorted exasperatingly. Bane noted her timid act had vanished.

He replied casually, "Because you've already seen it off."

Myra retorted quickly, "I know, but I just-." She stopped herself, realizing that she was both caught not in a 'lie', per se, but definitely the withholding of information to him. Bane's eyes shot up and looked at her, satisfaction written in his eyes at catching her in his verbal trap.

Bane was smiling, which was evident by the creased that blossomed at the corner of his eyes.

"I told you that you would regret it if you weren't up in 5 seconds. Consider me denying your request your punishment."

This only infuriated Myra, who brought herself fully up off him, reaching up towards his mask with both hands as if taking it off were as simple as pushing a button. Bane didn't let her hands near his mask, casually batting them aside before holding them steady away from his mask by the wrist. Myra struggled just briefly but subdued almost immediately, knowing she was no match against him physically. He held both of her arms by the wrist, her fists clenched, her lower body flush against his. She rested her elbows on his chest and used them to leverage herself up, her back arched as she gave him a scowl. Bane found this vastly amusing, indented creases evident at the corner of his eyes as he smiled fondly at her. "That will teach you to do as you're told and to head my warnings", he snarked.

* * *

An hour or so later as Myra lay there, a feeling started to blossom across her body. She was trying to determine what the feeling was, but the closest thing she could come to describing it was the feeling of being '_at home'_. She let her eyes wander around the somewhat dingy, small room with unfinished furnishings and bare walls, under the tattered frame of the broken cot, wondering why she was even having a feeling in such an inadequate setting. Bane's hands shifted slightly from around her, adjusting her torso so that it was positioned more comfortably against his chest. Her mind refocused on him, idly thinking perhaps it was he who was inspiring these feeling as she lay there feeling protected, admired, and adored.

She also contemplated Bane as a man. She understood why he had so many devoted followers; he was strong, imposing, represented confidence and competency. He was a strong speaker, able to instill passion or fear with simply his voice. He was also extremely intelligent, if not a genius. She almost hated herself for getting sucked into his charm and characteristics knowing he was also a mercenary who's killed people, wondering idly how many other women got sucked in to him for similar reasons of attraction.

"How many women have you had?" Myra blurted out.

Bane shifted his head at her question, turning to look at her with a mild level of surprise on his face. He didn't respond immediately, but instead looked as if he were taking in every feature of her face and memorizing it.

"Why do you ask such a question?" he asked curiously.

Myra responded by shifting and turning her head away with a sigh stretching her body slightly as if she were fidgeting at being called out for even asking the question, hoping he would respond autonomously without much thought.

"I'm just curious," she said in a pitch that was slightly higher than she had wished.

Bane brought a hand down to stroke the top her head idly, letting his fingers come together to feel the texture of her hair. He continued to stare at her as if she would change her mind at any moment and rescind her question.

"Did I not provide you adequate pleasure?" Bane asked questioningly.

Myra snapped her head back to look at him, eyebrows raised and a look of shock in her eyes.

"No! I mean…yes, you're wonderful. That's not the reason why I'm asking."

Bane caught her in her own web.

"Oh, so there is a reason for your question?" he asked with satisfaction in his voice, catching her in another trap. Too easily for Myra's liking.

Myra's face dropped, her mouth turning into a straight line realizing the trap he caught her in. She let herself squirm again, uncomfortable at being called out and equally uncomfortable at having to explain herself over something like this.

"I just….I want….I just…" Myra was having difficulty forming her words, trying to figure out exactly how to form her question.

"I just….I…..just want to know how many women you have brought back here." Myra turned her head to stare at the pillow as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

Bane smiled at her question, his skin creasing at the corners of his eyes indicating the depth of the smile. He continued to stroke her hair, finding humor in her bashfulness as well as her question. He waited a few moments before he answered her.

"You are making the false assumption that I have brought women here to bed."

Myra let her eyes wander back to him after he answered her, her mind easing slightly. Her chest started to rise as it transitioned at the notion that she was a 'special case'. "Well, then when was the last time you had a woman?" The squirming again.

Bane let a deep sigh escape through his mask as he tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling as if he were digging deep into the recesses of his mind for an answer. He kept his eyes raised up to aid in his recollection, though his hand continued its rhythm against her scalp.

"That's a more difficult question…allow me to think a moment…" Bane said thoughtfully.

Myra's squirming ceased when she realized that Bane's bedding of women was either so infrequent or so long ago that he was having difficulty recollecting. This increased the feeling and confidence she had in her chest of being slightly 'special' and that their situation possibly wasn't just a means for Bane to ease his boredom and simply satisfy his lust with the closest woman available. She let her eyes settle on his face as he continued to search the recesses of his mind.

He finally answered.

"It was probably when we were in Kazakhstan, 3 or 4 years ago. I treated myself and my men to a brothel that we stumbled upon," Bane replied matter-of-factly.

Myra scowled, though her scowl was superficial. She was somewhat relieved to hear that his last sexual encounter was, assumedly, with no strings attached. Bane turned and saw her scowl, sensing that she was judging him for his decision to go to a brothel despite seeing nothing wrong with it from a personal perspective. "Well, when was your last sexual encounter?', he asked.

Myra let her scowl drop and she froze, looking at him. She bit the bottom of her lip in contemplation before answering. "I had a boyfriend a few years ago.". That was all she said, the implications of that relationship hopefully obvious. Bane's response was only a "humph" through his mask, seemingly pacified by her answer. She was relieved when he didn't ask why things didn't work out. She didn't' want to have to relive the awkwardness of finding out that her boyfriend had decided to sleep with another woman while he was traveling abroad without her.

Myra relaxed, settling her head and cheek against his chest with her arms curling under his. She closed her eyes, trying to fight the sleepiness she was feeling from the intense body heat that radiated off of Bane's chest, causing her to become passive and drowsy. She was fighting a losing battle, however, and fell into a deep peaceful sleep as her worries and torment were temporarily forgotten. Bane didn't move; he wanted to make sure she was fully rested and got a proper night's sleep so the dark circles under her eyes would dissolve and the torment plaguing her mind would ebb.

* * *

Bane kept Myra on a strict routine to keep her mind focused and distracted away from her tormented wonderings, knowing she was constantly on the edge of teetering into uncertainty and self-loathing over the decision she made to help protect him against the three police officers. From Myra's perspective, it was working. Every day she spent with Bane validated her reasoning because every day she spent with him made her feel a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. She didn't feel a belonging to his cause; to be honest, she asked very little questions about it which she knew was foolish and ignorant. It was Bane himself that was instilling this feeling of contentedness, belonging, and being where she was supposed to be.

In terms of intimacy between the two, Bane knew Myra was shy and didn't like any public declarations of the type of relationship they had. For this reason, he maintained a distance and didn't treat her much differently than he had weeks before. He also didn't want to create an abundance of confusion among his men in terms of her role as a hostage, though it was obvious that she had superseded that role into something else. However, there would be occasions during their routine defense practice (which had also slowly transitioned into 'offensive' practice, to Myra's amusement) when a hand was placed just so, or someone gave the other a look that was particularly suggestive. These instances generally ended in a quick retreat back to Myra's room. While Bane had initially replaced the cot that they had worn through their first night of coupling, he was now onto the 3rd cot replacement (with some of them being more resilient than others and lasting quite a while before they, too, met their predecessor's fate).

After roughly a week of this routine, Bane was forced away to tend to business for several days. When he did finally return, he made sure logistically his operation and men were in order (albeit with a mild level of impatience) before he immediately beelined for Myra's room. When Bane entered the room where Myra slept and closed the door behind him, he turned to see Myra jump from her cot and rush towards him with a predatory gleam in her eye. She stalked quickly at him; lust written on her face with a moderate level of fierceness. It startled Bane, who took half a step back from her as she sprang on him. Bane _never_ backed up or shied from anyone; he has never felt the need to, has never felt threatened like someone was on the verge of eating him up. Until now. The look Myra had implied she wanted nothing more than to devour him. It was almost comical for such a large, imposing man startling away from a much smaller, slightly gangly female with noodle arms. He regained his composure immediately as she jumped up at him, wrapping her thighs and legs around his waist to lift herself up off the ground, gripping his shoulders to hoist herself up in case he didn't respond quickly enough to pull her up and support her with his arms. Bane responded quickly, however, by gripping her below on her bottom with a "Hmph" in a show of mild exertion and surprise. "I assume you missed me during my absence?", Bane asked with amusement dripping from his tone.

"Shut up," Myra said, resuming where they left off before he left.

* * *

Roughly an hour after Bane's return, Myra lay naked and prone with her chest against Bane's in the wreckage of another failed and broken cot. She was idly tracing her finger along the metal canisters that made up the lower portion of his mask which undoubtedly contained compressed medicine that was dispensed into his lungs to ease his chronic pain. She kept her cheek rested against his collarbone. Her other arm was bent against the side of her body and held onto his bicep loosely. Her toes rubbed against his muscularly defined (but hairy) legs in a mirror of idleness. Bane's eyelids were closed, resting from the combined exertion of very recent sexual activity on top of traveling from the business that forced him away. One of his hands was nestled at her lower back, idly tracing the scar that she bore from her childhood accident. His other hand was placed at the back of her head with his fingers loosely intertwined in her hair.

"I don't want to go," Myra said suddenly.

Bane's eyes snapped open at this, the sleepiness he felt consuming his body before now evaporated. Myra felt Bane's hands tighten reflexively into her scalp at her comment, and the hand that was brushing strokes against her lower back ceasing its activity. She waited for a reply. After seconds, and then a minute or two went by, she knew she wasn't getting one. It made her heart squeeze lightly and her stomach drop at the myriad of implications at this.

Myra removed her hand away from his mask and his bicep, bringing them both to cup under her chin as she processed her own frank confession and trying to decide if she made a mistake by even mentioning it and overthinking their relationship. _You could have ruined 'this'…he might not want to touch you anymore, if he thinks you believe there is more to this. Idiot. _

Myra's mind started to slowly digress into self-deprecating thoughts, self-doubt and concerns of self-worth. She started feeling foolish. She felt herself having difficulty breathing as she was overcome with emotions that she didn't find very comfortable. She pushed her hands against his chest to lift herself away before she let her emotions get the better of her and start crying. She didn't want him to see her cry.

As she was lifting herself up, Bane's arms encircled her to stop her. "What are you doing?" he asked as if confused, anger on the fringe of his words.

Bane's confusion and hints at anger startled Myra and caused her own confusion. _Is he asking me why I'm getting up?...or….why am I making ridiculous statements and ruining 'this'….'this' that we have that doesn't need to be more complicated with me saying things that can't be helped…and implying I want to stay when I know I can't…._

Myra, of course, assumed Bane's anger was due to the more complicated reasoning of Myra possibly ruining their situation through fumbling declarations. Myra was looking right at him when her eyes starting to glaze over. When she felt the moisture slam into her eyes, she held in a breath knowing that one simple shift in her body would cause a waterfall.

Bane returned her gaze and saw the moisture spring into her eyes, his eyes softening considerably though his confusion was still apparent. He kept his hold around her firm, however.

"Shhh…..we're not done here," Bane said as he coaxed a rather reluctant Myra back down onto his chest. Myra complied reluctantly, planting her face into his neck, and smothering her nose into it so that he couldn't see her face. He moved his hand to the back of her head to thread his fingers into her hair and gently massage her scalp. His other hand kept a firm pressure against her back so that she would stay tight against him.

"I will come for you after the hostage exchange is over, if that is your wish," Bane finally responded.

Myra brought a hand up to wipe the moisture from her eyes away, turning her head to the side so that the words from her mouth could be understood and not muffled. "You would?" Myra said slowly, softly.

After her response and feeling her body stiffness soften considerably, Bane resumed his idle strokes along her spine, stopping short of her scar at her lower back.

"Yes. Granted, I won't be able to come for you until after you've lost the attention of the Gotham Police who will most certainly have questions for you in regard to your time here. Once the dust settles and you still wish to come back, then I will come for you," Bane said.

Myra held her body still as she listened to him and processed his words. The moisture behind her eyes started to disappear as the darker emotions that had consumed her moments earlier evaporated.

"Yes," Myra said softly.

Bane rested his head back more comfortably against the pillow on the cot, letting his eyes re-settle into a state of rest as his body relaxed. "Good", Bane said simply, though Myra felt that his simple word conveyed a wide array of emotions and feelings that she felt resonate into her, making her feel warm and content and comfortable again. She buried her head further into the skin on his neck, her eyes closing and falling asleep almost as soon as she let out a relaxed breath.

* * *

The call from Phillip Stryver indicating an agreement by the Gotham Police to exchange two of Bane's men for Myra finally came. Bane and Myra knew it was going to happen; Bane more so than Myra after Stryver assumed leadership of Daggett Industries following Daggett's death as well as Stryver's understandable fear of Bane pushing him to resolve this situation sooner than later. He almost hated him for it.

When Bane told Myra of the news, Myra noted Bane became distant. She thought it was possibly due to distraction. _Or something else_, Myra thought. The actual exchange was happening the following day. Bane gave Myra a day off from their usual rounds of self-defense or offensive training, which of course rattled Myra further. She slept alone that evening, though internally she rationalized Bane was probably trying to stay focused on the task at hand to ensure that nothing failed or went wrong. _I hope he remembers to come for me._

The agreed upon location for the exchange was at the water's edge next to docks. It was open enough to where any visible threats could be located, and the water's edge limited one extra angle of possible snipers the police has to identify. When Bane and his men initially made it to the docks, Bane stood at Myra's back and guided her hands behind her back so that he could bind them with a zip tie. When he did this he leaned forward towards Mya's ear.

"It would be pleasant if you could make a show of screaming, for theatrics," he whispered to her.

Myra smiled and turned her head partially to see his head bent down, focused on the task of binding her wrists. She nodded lightly, agreeing to his request. Bane guided and handed her off to another man, but not before he gave her an affectionate but invisible squeeze on her arm.

Myra observed Bane whisper and issue orders to the man, who she didn't immediately recognize but it soon dawned on her that it was one of her original sparring partners. He was the one that Bane used to instill fear into her, to try and drive her into proper self-defense. Her stomach dropped as he took hold of her somewhat roughly, him eying her again like a piece of meat that had jilted and deprived him. Bane's whispered command to the man was simply, "She'll scream". However, those words were interpreted much differently by the man as evidence by what ensued.

Bane nodded to the man who had control of her, indicating for him to lead her forward and wait for the Gotham Police to reciprocate and bring forth his two men that were captured. Bane didn't see any indication from the other side that they were ready or willing to engage in the hostage exchange, and knew theatrics involving Myra screaming would expedite the situation.

The man dragged Myra away from Bane and his men, stopping halfway between the two groups; one group being Bane and his men, the other the Gotham police and the accompanying emergency response personnel. He forced her to her knees rather roughly, causing her to react by twisting her head to grimace at him and verbally protest. However, as soon as she was kneeling and her face turned towards him, he backhanded her in the face with considerable force, taking her by complete surprise.

"You need to look riper for them," he spat in a hushed tone.

He grabbed her by the front of her shirt to shake her and hold her still before winding an arm and driving it forward, punching her in the jaw. With her hands tied behind her back, she was unable to prevent her body from falling forward. Her face made contact with the gravel ground, her cheek sliding and catching on the uneven and harsh rocky surface. She was too shocked to even make a noise of protest, her mind screaming at the combined pain of the brunt force of his strike and the excruciating road rash. His hand darted out to to grab her by her shirt collar, dragging her back up with half of her face a red streaked smear combined with blood and pebbles.

He brought his face closer to hers. He let his mouth get even closer.

"Why don't you scream for me?" he said.

She felt his lips graze her bottom lip aggressively, the tip of his tongue dart out to touch her cheek before giving her another shake leading her to lurch forward. Myra cried out in disgust, but held herself back from screaming. She watched out of the corner of her eye as a string of blood eased from her mouth, stretch in a red line, and finally fall to the ground.

Myra turned her head away from Bane, her worst fears materializing from the deepest recesses of her mind. Tears clouded her vision. She knew he was watching, maybe even gave the order for this to be done to her. And he wasn't stopping it. _Why aren't you stopping this, _she thought. During the manhandling, her hair fell forward to cover half of her face. _He wouldn't have ordered this or allowed this if he intended on coming back for me, _she thought. Complete and utter embarrassment, abandonment, betrayal, and disappointment overtook her upon her realization. She felt used, discarded. Manipulated. _But I didn't ever feel like I was manipulated…_She thought. _Idiot. Just because you didn't 'feel' it, doesn't mean you weren't. _

Myra was startled at the physical sensation of her heart literally dropping to her stomach like a pit, shattering. She didn't want him to see the the tears in her eyes, the blood on her lips, the bruising in and around her eye in case that was his intent all along. In case it brought him satisfaction. _I'm the reason those policemen died…they were only trying to help me…why did I do that..._Her insecurities resurfaced at an exponential rate. She wanted to vomit. _Maybe he is a monster and he manipulated me into having sex with him and….l. _She let herself sink further down onto her knees in defeat, closing her eyes, letting the tears stream down her cheek freely. She didn't want to turn and see his face saying, _"Foolish girl to think the thoughts you did. What did you think this was?" _Embarrassment and a sense of complete loss and failure continued to grip her chest. A pit, a wide chasm. Sucking her dry, making it difficult to catch her breath. To think. To breath. She felt herself starting to hyperventilate. She tried to focus and will herself into calmer breaths, forcing her eyes shut tightly.

Bane was, for the moment, a model of self-control but Barsard could physically witness the strain Bane was undergoing at not stomping towards her and correcting the situation, knowing if he did then the hostage exchange would fail. Bane mentally willed Myra to turn and look at him, to let his eyes comfort her and tell her that he was angry and there would be suffering for what was being done to her. When she didn't turn to look at him, but instead slumped down as if in agonized defeat, her head very pointedly turned away from him, he took a step forward, ready to plow the man holding Myra. Barsad was waiting for this moment and took a half step in front of Bane to physically block him, giving him a look in hopes that it would allow Bane to regain his focus of the task at hand. Bane's fury was refocused on Barsad in front of him. Barsad could stop Bane no more than a fly could stop a raging bull. However, his actions did distract Bane for the half a second it required him to regain focus and concentrate on the task at hand. Bane's fists continued to clench and unclench, aching to break a neck. Barsad simply stared back at him with his signature lazy stare as if he wished he were anywhere else but right here, right now.

Observing a hostage being abused most certainly incited haste from the Gotham Police, who removed the two captured men of Bane's from the back of a truck and rushed them forward towards the meeting point at the center. Bane's captured men were uncuffed quickly, where they proceeded to reunite with Bane and his men. Myra simply stayed kneeling on the ground, her head lurched forward either in pain or from emotional distress. The police officers that brought both of Bane's men over moved over to her and hauled her up onto her feet carefully before retreating back towards the Gotham Police and the emergency responders.

Bane watched as Myra was escorted by two police officers back to safety, a nurse rushing forward to wrap a blanket around her shoulders and cup her face in her hands to examine and treat her facial wounds and check for fractures. Bane could make out Myra's shoulders beginning to shake before she fell forward to her knees, sobs racking her body. The nurse that was seeing to her as well as the police officers at her side quickly bent down to comfort her, the nurse offering her a comforting shoulder to cry on and gently rubbing her back. Bane turned away, stepping towards the spot where Myra was held and beaten. He looked down at the ground and saw fresh droplets of blood. His fists clenched, his nails digging into his flesh as he looked down at the fresh evidence of blood. To say he was furious would be a severe understatement.

Bane and his men walked away with the hostage exchange fully concluded. Once they were around the corner, Bane turned towards the man that handled Myra, clenching and unclenching his fists as he sauntered towards him. He saw Bane approaching him. The man lifted his hands as if exasperated. "Sorry, boss, she didn't end up being a screamer…" Before anyone could react, Bane was unleashing all hell onto the man in the form of repeated strikes and punches. The man had no chance to respond or even react before he was on the ground, being knocked out from the very first strike to the head. Barsad had stopped to observe from the side with a look of bored expectation, knowing what was going to happen to the man as soon as he mistakenly delivered his first blow to Myra's face. Bane didn't stop. He kept at it until all that was left of his head was a collapsed shell oozing brain matter, bone, and blood. After he was done, Bane let out a breath that sounded like a raging bull, standing up and pacing as if waiting, _willing_ for someone to challenge him.

One of the exchanged hostages asked hesitantly to a comrade, "What's the matter?". Before anyone could silence him, Bane was on him like the rising sun. Bane simply grabbed his throat and crunched it like he was condensing a can for recycling and dropped his lifeless body to the floor with the other corpse. Everyone was silent and motionless, particularly the lone surviving hostage, potentially fearing responsible for the source of his anger. Bane looked around at his men, offering one last sweeping invitation for another challenge before he turned around and stomped off back to the direction of their base. Confusion and concern mingled in everyone's expressions as they watched Bane's retreating back before they followed him.

* * *

_**Author: I hope you liked it! Please review! Every review matters :0 It lets me know people are reading it! Let me know what you'd like to see, or if you have suggestions - ANYTHING! **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

_**Author: This chapter is a bit difficult; it deals with a difficult topic (suicide). It's also short, and maybe a bit clumsily written, but I swear it gets better after this chapter; just muster through it! There's a light at the end of the tunnel, I promise! Be strong! My best chapters are right after this one!**_

_**I'd like to give a shout-out to Fall-Back-Down, AllLiesEnd/Dani, Jetsetter17, and Sienneax3. I really appreciating you taking the time to leave a review! It's incredibly encouraging to receive feedback and know there are people who are reading this story! (Special thanks to Dani for giving me extra tips/suggestions that were *SO HELPFUL*. -noms all the feedback and reviews like a savage for writing-fuel-sustenance-) **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

Bane knew time was of the essence in terms of retrieving Myra. While his original plan had been to wait a reasonable amount of time before the Gotham Police's attention was drawn away from her, he now had the undue inkling that she was undoubtedly experiencing a considerable level of self-doubt, questioning, pain, and betrayal due to the outcome of the hostage exchange. That outcome, on top of the thoughts and feelings she had kept at bay concerning the three police officers that died in their attempt to retrieve her now undoubtedly undammed and festering, would create a perfect storm for depression and self-loathing. He wasn't sure how long she would last. He didn't want to find out.

Almost as soon as he made it back to the compound, he tasked out individuals to determine what station she was being held at, for how long, where she was kept at night, and to start making extraction plans.

* * *

The only positive outcome of Myra's sense of betrayal was that her despair, anguish, and sense of having been abused was genuine. This led to a considerably easier time with the police, who didn't push her into questions or answers that would instill more psychological distress or mental anguish.

Whoever interacted with Myra treated her as if she may suddenly transition into an emotional breakdown. Aside from the intense sobbing she did immediately following the hostage exchange, she felt that her emotional 'well' had been dried up and left her like a lifeless husk who just played at living and breathing. Her first stop immediately after her return to civilization was the hospital.

After treating her facial wounds (which required several stitches along her jawline) and assuring she wasn't malnourished, the doctors asked her if she had been raped.

_Is it rape if I was manipulated into wanting it?_ _Would it be considered rape if I wanted it at the time…? If there was no struggle? _As Myra sat there looking down into her hand, wringing them together pondering these thoughts, the doctor interpreted her silence as confirmation.

"If you are willing and comfortable enough, it would be ideal to administer a rape kit as soon as possible," the doctor asked sympathetically.

Myra cringed inwardly. Despite the possibility of Bane having manipulated her emotions and body into submitting to his, the notion of him being identified by the remnants of his body inside of hers as a rapist didn't settle well with her, particularly due to his past history regarding his stance on rapists. _Unless that story was a lie…_

_Why am I protecting him….he doesn't deserve it._ Myra wasn't sure why. It made her upset that there was a part of her that continued to advocate and protect Bane.

Myra finally shook her head, turning her gaze away. The doctor looked at her thoughtfully.

"Well, if you change your mind, the sooner it's performed the better. In the meantime, we can offer you some emergency contraceptives and…an apportion bill, if necessary?"

Myra's mind swung back to all of the times she and Bane had unprotected sex. She started to realize how stupid and idiotic that decision was. She vigorously nodded at the offer. This seemed to both pacify and concern the doctor, with it being a level of treatment she was willing to take but on the other hand it also being confirmation that she had experienced some level of sexual abuse.

After spending the night at a hospital and determining whether she was pregnant (which, miraculously, she wasn't), they still provided her with some emergency contraceptives administered orally. She was then sent to a see Detective Reese about her experience as a hostage. She was asked to answer rudimentary questions about her stay, as well as whatever information she could provide. The detective asked her questions hesitantly, sensitively; again, not sure what might set her off.

Detective Reese's first question had been simply to identify Bane, her 'kidnapper'. The detective pulled a large photograph from a manila folder, hesitating briefly as if he wasn't sure he should show her the image, before placing it down on the desk between him and Myra.

Myra looked down at the image of Bane reluctantly, a marginally out-of-focus photo taken from a slightly elevated vantage point obviously from some type of telephoto lens meant to capture an image quick before the individual being targeted noticed. It was a picture of his profile, his arm slightly raised as if he were issuing orders. The profile view also amplified the shape of his mask, his brows furrowed, and his eyes set in a severe expression. She reached for the photo, picking it up and analyzing it. To the officer, it looked as if she were trying to determine if she had seen this individual before. For Myra, seeing him only brought back emotions that she had already started to bury deep into a box that were starting to rumble from their confines, threatening to break free. She was left confused and struggling. She slowly put the photo back onto the table, turning it back towards Detective Reese.

"That's Bane," she said simply. "He's the one…who took me," she continued, sheepishly.

Detective Reese raised his eyes at her timidly before giving a nod.

"Thank you, Myra. I know this may be difficult for you, but you are an invaluable resource of information, considering how long you were a hostage," Reese continued.

Myra slumped in the chair she was sitting in. She didn't want to be reminded of the fact that she _had_ been a hostage 'for so long'. Detective Reese must have picked up on her grievances, because he continued on quickly.

"Would you be able to tell us where you were kept during you time as…a hostage?" he asked.

Myra simply stared down at the photograph of Bane on Detective Reese's desk, contemplating the answer. While she wouldn't be able to lead them to the inner compound where Bane's men stayed, she certainly could provide him with the fact that they were in the water outflow system. Myra's prolonged silence as she contemplated whether to share this information was immediately picked up by Detective Reese.

"Myra…it's really very important you provide us with any information you may have that would help us capture these individuals and prevent them from doing this again to someone else," he continued in a strained voice that sounded like it was making attempts at being soothing.

Myra continued to slouch in her chair, working it out in her mind before she provided him with an answer that would hopefully satiate him.

"It an underground parking garage. In a utility closet," she said matter-of-factly.

Detective Reese eyes her briefly as if she may be slightly dimwitted, before giving her a nod.

"Yes…we know you were kept there for a considerable amount of time during your stay. However, we are very curious to know where you were transferred after…"

He didn't finish his sentence. _After three police officers came in to rescue me and were brutally killed. _Myra knew that there was no way for Detective Reese to know whether Myra was in the room when the police officers died, or whether she even knew _that_ they died. She decided to press on, making an effort to avoid _that_ topic of discussion.

"No, I can't help you. I don't know," Myra said quickly, decidedly, almost shocking herself.

Detective Reese's mood seemed to shift slightly. Before he had been acting like he was walking on egg shells. Now he acted like he was privy to a deep dark secret.

"Can't help, or won't help?" he asked darkly.

Myra continued to stare at the photograph before her eyes, very slowly, rose up to his. She didn't respond.

* * *

Detective Reese said nothing else to her, and she was dismissed and transferred immediately to a psychologist. She was subsequently treated for classic symptoms of Stockholm syndrome. It was a tendency for victims of Stockholm syndrome to refuse to cooperate with police investigations regarding the victim's captors, which they were clearly seeing now in Myra.

The psychiatrist that Myra saw to, Doctor Solson, was a small aged woman who was far bolder with her questions than the previous individuals Myra had so far encountered regarding her time as a hostage. She also liked to use anecdotes in hopes that Myra would connect and relate her experience to one that had happened previously, forcing her to see the ethical dilemma she was facing.

"Have you heard of Patty Hearst?" Doctor Solson asked Myra curiously.

"Who?" Myra asked.

"Patty Hearst," Doctor Solson said. "She was kidnapped by a terrorist group in the 1970's."

Myra just stared at her, clearly not knowing who 'Patty Hearst' was.

"She was kidnapped against her will from her apartment; I believe they beat her, and she lost consciousness during the abduction. She was kidnapped because the terrorist group wanted to use her as leverage to free two of the terrorists' groups members who had been arrested for murder," Doctor Solson said matter-of-factly.

Myra swallowed. There were some _strong_ parallels between Patty Hearst and herself. _They didn't beat me unconscious though…_Myra thought inwardly, as if that made the situation better.

Doctor Solson continued on. "The authorities failed to release the imprisoned men, so the terrorist group refused to release Patty. They kept her in a small dark closet for weeks, kept a blindfold on her at all times and kept her hands tied. She was constantly threatened with her death", Doctor Solson said, pausing to allow Myra time to digest her words.

Myra felt slightly less at ease than she initially felt when being introduced to 'Patty Hearst'. _I was eventually released, though. Although I 'was' kept in a closet for weeks, it wasn't small and dark and I wasn't forced to wear a blindfold all of the time. They didn't bind my hands. No one ever threatened my life, either…_Myra stopped herself from thinking further. _Am I really trying to justify and rationalize why my hostage situation was superior to Patty Hearts? What is wrong with me? _

Doctor Solson continued on, seeing the internal dialogue that Myra seemed to be undergoing coming to a conclusion.

"However, after weeks of this, she was eventually allowed out to engage in some of the political discussions that the group engaged in. They eventually went easy on her, providing her with a flashlight so she could learn about the political mantras of the group. The group constantly told her that they were thinking of either killing her, or letting her stay with them."

Myra couldn't help but continue to compare her situation with Patty's. _I only ever briefly engaged in anything that would be considered 'political discussion' with Bane or Barsad…nothing consequential. My mindset never changed. Thank god I never had to use a flashlight to read in the 'closet'…god that sounds awful. What if Bane came into the room every day to tell me he was thinking of either killing me or letting me stay with them, only to repeat that process the next day? God…_ Myra physically cringed.

"She forced her mindset to coincide with theirs so that they would keep her. When they finally asked her if she wanted to stay with them, she said yes. They finally took her blindfold off – after _weeks _of it being on – and she was given daily lessons, duties, weapon drills," Doctor Solson continued.

Again, more parallels. _Hmmmm._ Myra thought. _ I was the one that asked "THEM" if I could stay... My mindset didn't change; I definitely didn't adopt a need to fulfill a life as a mercenary. They did provide me with daily lessons…although no weapons were involved. I was never given duties either. From a hostage stand-point, I was relatively pampered. _

"She was raped by the members of the group repeatedly. She changed her name. She attempted to rob a bank, shoplifted constantly, engaged in petty crimes for the sake of the terrorist group. She even helped make explosive devices. When she was eventually arrested and captured by authorities, she refused to aid the authorities; even against those that had raped her and essentially brainwashed her – _manipulated her_ – into this criminal world," Doctor Solson said pointedly.

Myra was shocked. She felt like she was unloaded with a large container of emotional and traumatic baggage that she wasn't sure how to respond to. _Bane protected me from being raped…_ Myra squinted her eyes, thinking more on what Doctor Solson said. _I feel 'no' desire to go rob a bank or commit any sort of crime. Not even at the high-point of my stay with Bane. If he had asked me to go rob a bank for him, I know I would have said no. I also know he wouldn't have asked me…_

Myra decided she had better respond to Doctor Solson.

"But…I never felt like my life was in danger and I wasn't mistreated. I also don't consider myself 'indoctrinated'….I certainly am not a member of their army."

Myra's comments were, of course, met with skepticism, remnants of her facial injuries still on full display. Doctor Solson let her eyes wander over her face at the visual reminders of the facial beatings she received from the day of the hostage exchange. It made Myra feel incredibly self-conscious.

_Maybe I was radicalized. I don't feel 'radical', though…I don't want to hurt anyone, I have no clue what Bane and his men actually "DO". _She preferred ignorance.

Despite the psychiatry sessions, Myra continued to withhold information regarding her captors. She also withheld information about her own mental wellbeing, clearly becoming more and more depressed the more she talked about the perceived living hell she experienced.

_It wasn't hell though…it felt like home. He was there. _Myra grabbed the side of her head, grabbing chunks of her hair and pulling, trying to extract these thoughts out of her head. _He deceived me. He never meant to get me. It was all a lie. Everything…was a lie. _

Doctor Solson prescribed Myra with anti-depressants following their first session, clearly seeing the mental spiral that Myra started tumbling down.

* * *

That evening, Myra sat in her bed cross-legged. Her mind had felt like it was wired non-stop since she returned from the hostage exchange. She was having incredibly conflicting feelings. She couldn't breath sometimes. She was getting anxiety. _I never get anxiety. _She felt worthless, abused, manipulated. Then she would have a moment, a 'high', in which she would look on the brighter side of things and momentarily forget about her troubles before the spiral would repeat itself. Her 'high' was always short-lived; she couldn't find anything in her present situation that was positive.

Myra reclined back on the bed, rolling onto her side and grabbing one of her pillows between her arms, hugging it. _What kind of person would let me feel the things I felt…and then just…._Myra squirmed, bringing a hand up to cover her eyes. _He let me get close…he knew what was going to happen…he enjoyed knowing how much it would hurt me. That's what he excels at. Hurting people. I'm just too blind or stupid to think he didn't mean to eventually hurt me too. _

She pulled herself out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. She grabbed her toothbrush and some tooth paste, and began the process of brushing her teeth. She looked at the bathroom mirror as she did this before her eyes started glazing over. She could almost picture him looking back through the reflection at her, unmasked, brushing his teeth too before spitting his toothpaste out and brandishing her with a lovely knowing smile with those equally captivating lips. She felt like she was losing her mind. She didn't even finish brushing her teeth, but instead flung the mirror open to reveal the medicine cabinet behind it. She grabbed the antidepressants that had been prescribed to her earlier that day, opening the child-proof lid, and let one of them fall into her hand. She rolled the tablet between her fingers for a moment, before looking at the rest of the pills in the container thoughtfully.

* * *

When Myra didn't show up for the psychiatry session early the next morning, Doctor Solson immediately called the police for them to perform a well-check on her. When the police officers arrived at Myra's temporary residence, she didn't answer. They busted the door down and found her passed out on her bed with a bottle of antidepressants that had been prescribed to her in her hand and a spilled glass of water in the other.

They checked her pupils, which were enlarged. They immediately made attempts to induce vomiting, but she was thoroughly passed out. The police rushed her to a hospital, where they instantly started the process of having her stomach pumped. They also gave her an IV to help speed up the body's removal of the excessive and lethal number of antidepressants in her blood.

* * *

The system very clearly failed Myra Bell. Aside from their inability to misdiagnose early signs of suicidal thoughts, they began questioning her in a manner that very clearly was not conducive to a healthy mindset. Myra eventually recovered from her attempts at ending her own life, though it was an incredibly slow and groggy process. They confined her to a hospital room, elevating her status to a 'high risk for suicide', which of course made her stay in the hospital far less enjoyable. She had to ask permission to use the restroom and was escorted inside the restroom with a nurse watching her. She couldn't have access to sharp objects or any other material or object that she could use to inflict bodily harm. She was checked on every 15 minutes by a nurse, regardless of the hour. This meant that she was constantly in a state of drifting in and out of consciousness because she would be startled awake by the periodic nurse passing through and collecting blood samples to assure that she was healthy and alright.

During the day, she would receive the same routine; a social worker would come in and talk to her, followed by her psychiatrist Doctor Solson, then a recreational therapist visited, and lastly, she was invited into group therapy sessions which she declined to attend. The initial introduction to all of the nurses that came in to perform the 15-minute well-checks on her was enough for her not to want to be around people any more than she had to be.

Myra wasn't sure how long this routine lasted; she felt like it had been weeks, with no end in sight. She thought she had felt mildly manic prior to her stay at the hospital, but she felt that she had elevated to a whole new level.

* * *

Bane squatted by his make-shift fire that he kept near the canopy that covered the electrical equipment that displayed tactical information. Bane had his old tin cup in his hand, half-filled with tea. He heard footsteps approaching him from behind, so he turned his head to the side to see who it was. It was Barsad, and he had a look that indicated he had news to share.

"She's being held in a hospital," Barsad told Bane reluctantly when he stopped behind Bane's back.

"A hospital? Were her injuries that serious?" Bane asked seriously, getting up from his squatted position, keeping the tin cup in his hand. Bane couldn't fathom how the injuries she sustained on her face during the hostage exchange would require her to maintain a hospital stay for more than several days.

Barsad allowed himself to swallow before he continued on.

"She's being held on suicide watch. She tried killing herself," Barsad said before immediately dropping his gaze after the words were out of his mouth.

Bane stared at him. Anger started rising in his chest, clouding his vision. Emotions rising up and constricting his windpipe were making it difficult for him to breath or speak, so he remained silent. He tossed his tin cup down next to the fire, the cup bouncing off cement causing loud 'dings' to permeate against the cement walls, before turning his attention back to Barsad. Bane appeared as if he had expected Barsad to have a tactical plan set up to resolve the situation, as per usual. Bane remained silent, waiting for the follow-through.

"There isn't a clear way to get to her, but it's honestly the safest place for her to be. She's being treated by doctors. It would be best if we waited for them to release her," Barsad continued as if offering a brighter side to the situation.

Bane wasn't having it.

"And when will be, pray tell?" Bane practically bellowed as the emotional dam that made it difficult for him to speak or breath broke free.

Barsad didn't give him a reply, but lifted his eyes up to return his gaze, obviously not having a clear answer for him.

Bane let out a frustrated huff before pacing back and forth a few steps, processing the information and determining the best possible solutions to the situation since Barsad had clearly failed in that regard.

In the end, he knew Barsad was right. Despite the idea of storming a hospital sounding slightly intriguing to Bane, he knew she was being taken care of by medical professionals who were providing her with the medical help she needed that he wouldn't be able to himself.

Bane would just have to wait until she was released from the hospital.

* * *

Due to the absence of Myra, who had generally kept him mildly occupied, Bane's efforts at resolving loose ends had become his primary focus; almost obsessively so. He issued orders to have his men follow and bring Selena Kyle to him and kill her if necessary, knowing he had promised John Daggett ages ago that he would take care of her one way or another. Despite Daggett's death, he still felt a moderate level of need to complete the task he promised him. When he did manage to track her down and she was subsequently brought to him, he made an agreement with her that he would cease his plans on killing her _if _she managed to bring Batman to him down in the underground reflow sewers. She agreed, albeit reluctantly.

Bane and his men were waiting patiently for the arrival of Selena Kyle and Batman in a large amphitheater-like area of the sewers, a large pipe emitting water from the ceiling which allowed water to flow down like a waterfall that created noisy liquid ambient noises. Bane turned and stood on a large metal walkway, looking towards the direction of incoming footsteps indicating Selena Kyle and Batman were near.

"Just a little further," Selena Kyle said, guiding Batman through a very rusty metal gate. Once through, it slammed shut behind him. Batman turned to Selena Kyle slowly, betrayal causing his body to go stiff.

"I had to find a way to stop them trying to kill me," Selena Kyle said sadly, apologetically.

"You made a serious mistake," Batman said, staring at her between the bars of the caged door that created a barrier between him and Selena Kyle, caging him in like an animal.

"Not as serious as yours, I fear," Bane said slowly, almost lazily, with a hint of amusement. Bane was holding onto the upper straps of his military vest, standing on the opposite side of the metal walkway, looking amusedly at Batman.

"Bane," Batman let out quickly.

"Let's not stand on ceremony here…Mr. Wayne," Bane said. Selena Kyle looked surprised, inching forward upon the realization that Batman was, in fact, Bruce Wayne. She grabbed hold of the metal cage door.

Bane and Batman slowly started walking towards each other; Bane's boots making large metallic clinks against the walkway while Batman's were fainter and softer, indicating the drastic difference in mass between the two. Batman made the first punch at Bane, who simply took it, before Batman started unleashing punches to Bane's chest and his face. Bane seemed absolutely unphased by the assaults.

After allowing Batman to punch him for several seconds, Bane snatched out and grabbed hold of Batman's fist. "Peace has cost you your strength", he said, before he left his eyes roam up and down Batman's body as if he were able to see-through his armor at all of the injuries and chronic ailments that plagued him. "Victory has defeated you", Bane continued, chastising him.

Bane used the fist he was holding onto Batman to smack him back in the face, who responded by grunting sharply. Bane put his hands on the metal rails that framed the walkway, leveraging it to support his body while he started kicking Batman, who started retreating backwards. The pair engaged in several more punches, before Bane gave Batman a solid kick that sent Batman flying over the metal railway, down below.

Bane followed him by climbing easily down a long metal chain that hung from the ceiling. He grabbed Batman by the throat easily, slamming him against a metal support beam. Batman attempted to defend himself by unleashing a furious assault against Bane. It appeared Batman had received somewhat of an upper hand, as his fists repeatedly made contact with Bane's head.

Several of Bane's men, including Barsad, watched from an uncomfortable distance, knowing better than to intervene and that Bane was more than capable of ending the fight at a moment's notice and that he appeared to simply be playing with Batman, giving him false hope by allowing him to punch him. Bane let him do it several more moments before he swung around, unleashing a giant smash against Batman's face like a whirlwind, emitting a sound through his mask that sounded like a speeding train. He then kicked Batman in the side, who had fell down onto his knees.

Batman tried retreating onto the metal walkway, though he was no match for Bane. He eventually was able to retreat far enough, grabbing at his belt and throwing smoke bombs at Bane. Bane appeared amused.

"Theatricality and deception – powerful agents to the uninitiated. But we are initiated, aren't we, Bruce?" Bane mused. "Members of the League of Shadows," Bane continued, as if he found this information extremely amusing.

Batman made several more attempts at attacking Bane, before Bane gave Batman a ferocious gut punch.

"And you betrayed us," Bane said viciously. He lifted Batman up by the throat, walking him backwards as Batman's feet danged off of the floor.

"Us?" Batman said. "You were excommunicated by a gang of psychopaths," Batman managed to breath out. Bane pondered these words that Batman delivered briefly, as if reflecting on Batman's interpretation of the events that had unfolded, before his punches became severe and passionate against Batman's side, the sounds emitting through his grill highlighting the severity of his punches. Batman fell backward.

"I am the league of shadows!" Bane shouted, sounding pleased. "And I am here to fulfill Ra's Al Ghul's Destiny!" Bane continued, outspreading his arms as he said this, the sound of water in the background also spraying against them. Batman yelled as he started charging at Bane. He catches Bane by the middle, forcing Bane back, causing Bane to stumble and fall on his back.

Batman started punching Bane who was still on the ground, before Bane grabs hold of Batman's head and gives him a head smash, forcing him backwards.

"You fight like a younger man!" Bane goaded. "Nothing held back," Bane said, strain in his voice as he eased himself back up off the ground, letting out an exerted sigh. "Admirable, but mistaken," Bane said, almost sadly.

Batman clicks something at his belt. The lights go out in the underground sewer amphitheater.

"Oh, you think darkness is your ally?" Bane asked, his eyes adjusting immediately to the dark. "But you merely adopted the dark. I was born in it. Molded by it. I didn't see the light until I was already a man. By then, it was nothing to me but _blinding._" As Bane said this, he snatched out and grabbed Batman by the throat. "The shadows betray you because they belong to me!" Bane barked, clearly in his element. Emboldened.

Batman fell backwards against the ground. Bane sauntered up to him, leaning down and holding Batman's head down as he started delivering ferocious punches to the side of his face, the crushing sound of Batman's mask permeating into the area.

Batman lay limp. "I will show you where I made my home whilst preparing to bring justice. Then, I will break you," Bane said as if he were toying him. One of Bane's men tossed him a transmitter device. Bane snatched it and pressed a button. A string of small explosions traveled up the walls of the large amphitheater, traveling all the way up to the ceiling where a massive explosion took place. Cement ceiling and wall started crumbling down around them, one of the armory's ground vehicles crashing to the floor in rubble.

"Your precious armory! Gratefully accepted. We will need it," Bane said as if he were reasoning with Batman. Bane's men started climbing up to the surface with hook-shot ropes, immediately rummaging through all of the militarized equipment to be used for their benefit.

This seemed to be Batman's tipping point; it was too much for him to witness someone like Bane take ownership of all of those resources and weaponry. He started getting up.

"Ah, yes!" Bane shouted. "I was wondering what would break first!" Bane shouted excitedly.

Batman charged him with a yell. Bane deflected it easy, punching him to the ground.

"Your spirit…" he said, bending down to lift Batman bodily up over his head "…or your body!"

As he said this, he brought Batman's body down against his knee, snapping his back in half, bones crunching.

Several of Bane's men inched forward to get a better look at the spectacle. Bane reached forward and snatched the broken mask that Batman wore, walking away from his body and analyzing it briefly before tossing it aside casually, his task completed. Several of Bane's men immediately rushed forward and hauled Batman's body up and away, his final destination being 'the Pit'.

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**Author: PLEASE don't forget to review! ***If no one reviews, I'm assuming no one is enjoying it.*** I also love constructive feedback; were there things you didn't like? wanted to see more of? Let me know!**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

_**Author: Almost...through the...bog...just...keep...going...I promise...it gets...BETTER. **_

_**Thank you Siennax3 and Paige for your reviews! **__** You get special imaginary 'SPACE STICKERS', because I had space on the brain as I wrote some…bits…later…in the chapter…Peanut butter jelly too. You two rock and I really appreciate you taking the time to post a review. It definitely encourages me to write and release a chapter faster knowing that there is someone out there who at least moderately enjoys this story **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

Myra was eventually released during the third week of being confined to the hospital. The decision was strongly motivated by overcrowding of the hospital and lack of medical personnel to provide constant patient observation; other patients became more prioritized based on their own assumed mental state and due to the length of Myra's stay, she was eventually pushed out.

Once out, she was relocated across the state to a group home. She had initially contemplated taking the extra measure of changing her name legally, wanting to erase the embarrassment that was Myra Bell, but decided against it. She was already exhausted physically and mentally; having to go through the paperwork, procedures, and remembrance of a new name seemed beyond her capabilities at the moment.

The first feeling that Myra felt distinctly once settled in her new environment was that she felt like she was living inside an empty shell. She couldn't decide whether it was because she was so thoroughly spent both emotionally and physically that she had simply become a walking husk, or if it was something else. She didn't even complain or take much notice to the fact that she now had to share a bedroom with another individual from the group home environment. She had no desire to learn their name, who they were, or why they were also in a similar situation. She simply ignored them, reverting back to not wanting to make any connections with anyone.

After a week of the group home environment, she was transferred to her own single bedroom apartment down the street. She felt herself ease considerably after being granted this spatial freedom, letting herself push against the confines of her consciousness and the possibilities that were laid out before her. The possibilities weren't spectacular, given her current state.

They provided her assistance in finding part time work at a local library, where she worked in the mornings until noon. After noon, she went home and generally lay on her bed staring at the ceiling or napped. She would wake up in the evenings to go for a walk, favoring a bridge that was under construction and was always absent of walkers and traffic. She would then walk home, eat microwave food in front of a television, brush her teeth, then go to sleep only to wake up the next morning to repeat the process.

Myra knew she was released from the hospital prematurely. While she wasn't outright told the reasoning for her release, she knew the lack of positive reinforcement (i.e. "You're doing spectacular! Great improvement! Amazing attitude!") was a tell-tale sign that she should probably have prolonged her stay until she was out of the 'red'. However, having loathed her stay and the constant observation they afforded her, she made no move to voice her opinion on the matter.

Some days she felt moderate and indifferent about her current life prospects. Other days she would spiral down a deep dark black hole. It was almost like a game of Russian Roulette every morning in terms of what kind of day it would be for her, and how she was going to deal with it. She felt like the more and more she continued on with her routine, the more often the internal revolver would settle on the 'deep dark black hole' shell casing.

This particular morning as Myra woke up, she definitely felt an internal 'click' indicating the internal revolver cylinder settled on the 'deep dark black hole'. She struggled to get out of bed. She struggled to eat her breakfast. She struggled to get to work at the library doing mundane work. She struggled with the concept that someone had the ability – _the power - _to make her feel this way. She struggled knowing she was the cause of the deaths of several police officers. Simply put, she struggled.

After making her way home from the library, she took a short nap which also was a struggle. She struggled to get up from her nap so that she could go on her routine walk down to the bridge and back. She trudged along the side of the road in a large winter coat, pushing snow and ice against her boot as she did so, her eyes cast down. As she made her way to the bridge, she let her eyes wander around, the wind making an eerie buzz in the air as it wound its way in the trees that framed the road perpendicular to the bridge.

She bypassed the roadblocks indicating that traffic wasn't allowed on the bridge due to the state of construction. She made her way to the middle of the bridge, hearing the rumbling of the near-frozen river raging far below. She eased herself towards the fence barricade along the pedestrian foot path that ran alongside the road on the bridge. She gripped the cold metal bars in her palms as she eased herself up, discovering that the ease and decided nature of her current actions were the first thing she wasn't struggling with in days.

Myra eased herself over onto the opposite side of the fence barricade and looked down at the water far below. Her mind was a combination of numb and being in a state of overstimulation. The whole ordeal she had suffered through the previous weeks, the foreign and new emotions she was dealing with, feeling responsible for the needless deaths of three officers _(and for what? for who?), _her situation in life, her feelings of betrayal – they made her mind shut down in an attempt at preservation, internally knowing she was being overwhelmed and bombarded and it was best if her mind shut off to reboot while it had time to filter and sort the feelings and thoughts she was experiencing.

During one of these internal mental 'reboots', she would experience a moment of serenity as her mind was momentarily cleared of her troubles and struggles. Her pupils would dilate, her chest would open – it immediately became easier to breath – and she would feel hope. Then, almost as quickly as feelings of optimism rushed over her, they would get flushed out and replaced with renewed thoughts of despair. It always crushed her, and it was always worse than the time before. She was experiencing that right now.

She let one of her arms go so she could lean forward even more to gaze at the expansive distance between where she stood and the water below. She wondered how far down it was. She eased her grip on the bar to stretch herself out just slightly further, not sure if the feeling of numbness that was taking over her body was the feeling of the frigid cold water air wafting up at her, or if it was her rebooted emotions reclaiming her senses.

"What are you doing?"

Myra heard a voice behind her ask angrily, startling her, almost causing her to lose her grip on the bar hold. A hand shot out and held onto her hand, obviously prepared for that scenario.

_Dying. _Myra tried to focus on the face that was inches from hers, remaining silent.

A pair of muscular hands grabbed her by the coat fabric at her shoulders, hauling her up and over the fence abruptly and non-too-gently before settling her down on the safe side of the fence, roughly turning her around before taking a step back to inspect her.

Myra's vision was blurry as she tried focusing on the individual who had pulled her off of the edge. _Am I dead? Did the devil himself come to bring me down to hell? I don't remember the fall…he certainly looks angry like a devil…_

Bane stared down at her with his arms clenched onto the scruff of her jacket, anger radiating off of him. What he saw returning his gaze was Myra looking worse for wear. Her eyes were dull, sunken, with impossibly dark circles half-rimming her eyes. Her skin was pale, with one distinct line running along her jaw indicating a freshly healed wound that had required stitches. She didn't struggle, but simply looked as if she didn't fully register who it was that had pulled her over the barrier; she looked confused as if she had been expecting someone else.

When her eyes finally focused and she had a moment to take-in his mask and his eyes to identify him, her eyes remained dim but she had the look of comprehension instead of confusion infused in her gaze.

"How did you find me?" she asked quietly, emotionless. Small cloud puffs erupted from her lips, indicating the cold temperature.

He furrowed his brows at her in confusion, her question indicating she didn't want to be found.

"I will always find you," he said in what he hoped was a soothing whisper and not laced with the insinuation of a threat from the anger he was feeling.

Bane brought a hand up to touch her cheek, letting his eyes hover over her diminished appearance and faint traces of facial injuries she had endured during the hostage exchange. They infuriated him. They made him want to go into a rage, aching to redeliver the blows upon those who caused her pain. Perhaps Myra saw the feral glint in his eye as he pondered these thoughts, for when he lifted his hand towards her face, she flinched away from him, pushing her shoulders up and cringing. The way she responded was as if it were Bane himself who was the one who physically assaulted and injured her. Bane removed his hands from her jacket, taking a step back from her and dropping his hand to his side, slowly clenching and unclenching his fist.

In all the time that Myra had been with him, even from the start when they knew nothing about each other when she was just a hostage from the stock market and he her captor, she had never reacted so negatively to him as if she feared physical rebuke. He felt his chest constrict with emotion.

"You recoil from me?" he wheezed out with a puff as if he didn't have enough air, his voice high. Myra didn't respond, instead turning her head to the side to avert her gaze while bringing her hands up in front of her chest like she was clutching the handle of an invisible shield. He watched as her whole body began to tremble. She looked terrified, and it outright crushed him.

"Why did you come for back for me," she finally responded, as if she were saying, "Why did you even bother."

Bane paused to ponder that question himself. He knew the arrangement he had with Myra couldn't last, considering Tahlia's impending plot to blow up Gotham (which of course Myra had no knowledge of, _yet_) coming near and his own decision to forfeit his life for Tahlia's scheme. Perhaps he wanted to feel something innocent and pure before he died. Someone who brought him genuine joy and pleasure. Someone untainted with revenge, a heart untainted from living in hell on earth; something that unfortunately Tahlia had fell victim to. It most certainly would have been easier to have simply abandoned Myra after the hostage exchange. Bane was not here out of convenience. He knew Myra had sacrificed a portion of her humanity the day she intervened between him and the three officer's to prevent his own injury and possible death. He knew that was something she would never be able to recover, like a gaping hole in her side that she would have to live with for the rest of her life, and considering the empathetic and moral person that she was, she would suffer for it. As he saw her suffering now. He did not take that knowledge lightly.

He wanted more than anything to reach forward and comfort her, to feel her, but instead opted to give her space while he attempted to amend the situation with his oratory skills.

"The hostage exchange didn't go accordingly. Your injuries were a mistake. He was punished severely for hurting you."

Bane hoped this news would ease at the very least her trembling, but instead he felt that her trembling may have even increased possibly due to the threatening tone he subscribed to due to the passion and anger he still felt at how the event unfolded. He gave out a sigh, his mask emitting the puff of air like a ventilation machine, which of course had the inadvertent effect of frightening her further like he was a steam engine ready to plow her down.

Bane kept his eyes focused on her, silently imploring her to look at him. After several moments of her trembling and inching away, he surrendered. He dropped down to one knee, hoping that his diminished height may make him appear less threatening. He gazed up at her, her height now just inches taller than he was kneeling, letting one hand rest on his bent knee while the other hand outstretched towards her as if professing a poem to a long-lost love.

"I apologize this happened to you. Please understand I will do whatever I must to make amends. Please come home."

Myra's trembling did subside and even ceased after he dropped down to his knee, the hands clutched at her chest relaxing as she contemplated his words, her shoulders relaxing marginally. _Come home, _he said. _Where was home for her?_ She certainly didn't consider the place she lived in now to be her home. She also wasn't sure if she considered Bane's base as her home either, although something there did make her feel _'at home' _on more than one occasion. She inwardly tried to determine what it was that made her feel 'at home', if it wasn't the concrete location.

As Myra witnessed him dropping to his knee, she also felt unsettled – disturbed, almost. Never had she witnessed Bane allow himself into any position that would be deemed compromising or submissive. Her eyes softened at this display, feeling awkward and uneasy as if she were seeing a great white shark strutting on land, completely out of its element, and suffering because it wasn't back in the ocean where it could thrive. Bane saw the physical reaction his words had on her as if they were gently coaxing her out of a cocooned shell. He decided to continue on, knowing the butterfly wasn't out of her cocooned prison quite yet.

"Please, Myra. I need you with me."

After several moments following his declaration, and Myra's inward logic in deciphering the true meaning of 'home' coming to a conclusion, her averted eyes slowly lifted to his. _He wouldn't have come here if he didn't want me back…_Bane let his outstretched hand open invitingly towards her, knowing she had to reach for it; she had to accept the invitation. He couldn't force her. Myra lowered her eyes down to the outstretched hand displayed before her, inviting her, compelling her to reach forward and take it.

Several moments passed which felt like an eternity to Bane before she let one of the hands still clutched at her chest fall slowly and almost reluctantly forward until they rested in his much larger one. She wanted nothing more than to rid herself of the feelings that had plagued her for weeks and knew one of her only chances was giving in to him and letting him convince and comfort her.

Bane seized this opportunity immediately to physically (albeit gently) coax her between his bent knees and into his chest before wrapping both of his arms around her possessively. Myra turned her head away from him but rested her cheek on his shoulder as both of her hands came up to clutch at his chest. Bane responded by letting one of his hands glide up her back and behind her head, cradling her head against his shoulder.

"I won't allow anyone to harm you ever again," Bane murmured through his mask against her ear.

_Oh yes, _Myra thought inwardly. _This is it. This is what 'home' feels like. _Bane began to rock her gently in his arms, breathing in her scent and warmth through his mask not realizing how much he missed it until the prospect of him possibly never being able to hold her again was realized. His arms reflexively squeezed around her harder at this notion.

Myra shifted her face to plant it into his shoulder, burying it into the fabric of his jacket.

"You're crushing me," she muffled into his shoulder, choking slightly to make her point.

Bane eased the hold he had around her, lowering the hand that was cradling the top of her skull to cup the base of her head, his fingers trickling through her hair. His other hand began to move up and down along her spine in a soft repetitive motion. Myra continued to keep her face turned downward against his shoulder as the fabric of the jacket he wore captured and absorbed the moisture that had formed at the corners of her closed eyelids. Her hands clutched into the lapels of his jacket, her grip tight as if she might suddenly fly up and away at any moment like a butterfly taking flight. They stayed that way for what felt like hours before Myra finally spoke.

"If I go back, I have conditions," Myra said this with a note of conviction in her voice.

Bane leaned back, easing the grip he had on her to look at her and bringing both of his hands to rest on her upper arms as if to steady her, curiosity evident in his eyes and the rise of his brows.

"You do, do you? Pray tell, may I ask what they are?" he asked curiously.

Myra wiped the moisture from her eyes with the back of her sleeve as if she would be taken more seriously without the evidence of emotion on her face. She knew she must look like a wounded child who stumbled into a parent's awaiting arms for comfort after a bloody stumble particularly since he was kneeling down to accommodate her, practically dwarfing her while she stood between his knees.

"I want to be useful. I don't want to sit around doing nothing all day. I want a job. Not…not a job that involves hurting people. But I still want a job. And not a job that keeps me at the base all day either," she stammered out quickly.

Bane continued to raise his eyebrows at her, giving her a show as if he were strongly contemplating her words carefully and considering it, but knowing before she even proposed her question that the answer to her condition was going to be unquestionably 'yes'.

"Very well. What else?" he replied simply.

Myra was somewhat surprised at the ease of Bane accommodating her request, thinking he would put up more resistance. She continued to wipe her eyes as her eyes shifted around momentarily as if she were unprepared for this 'list of conditions' so instead decided to look for the first ounce of inspiration to come to her in her surrounding environment.

"I want to be able to order food any time I want. Like pizza," she blurted out, as she saw a pizza delivery truck snake its way along the road perpendicular from the bridge they were on.

Bane humored her by treating her request as if it were of extreme importance and the severity of it was mission critical. He nodded slowly, letting his brows furrow in concentration at this additional request and never letting his eyes leave hers.

"Hmm….that may be difficult…but we'll see what we can do," he replied seriously.

Myra gave her eyes one final swipe of her sleeve to erase the last remnants of moisture before bringing up both hands to rest on his shoulders, searching his expression for any additional conditions she may have missed.

"I don't want to sleep on a cot anymore. I want a bigger, nicer bed. One that can fit two people," she stated as if affronted by the fact she even had ever slept in a cot.

Bane, once again, respectfully acknowledged her condition but it was particularly difficult to not let show the hint of a smile seep into the corner of his eyes.

"How many more conditions do you have? I'm starting to reconsider…"

Myra pursed her lips at him, giving his shoulders a tight squeeze as if to warn him into silence, before proceeding onto her next condition.

"You aren't allowed to sleep in that cot outside the room anymore. Wherever I sleep, you sleep," she ordered with a slight nod of her chin.

Bane looked her over, still treating each and every request as if it were quite serious and needed thorough consideration before he replied, not wanting her to get the impression that he was either too eager or not taking her conditions seriously enough.

"I suppose that can be arranged. Granted, there may be times when I'm away. However, all other instances I will do my best to accommodate you and your 'conditions'," he said in what sounded like reluctance.

"I'm not done," Myra said hurriedly before he did indeed decide that her requests were becoming too many. She let the hands that were rested on his shoulder slowly move to touch the sides of his mask, her eyes dropping to it. Fixating on it. Bane knew what she wanted without words needing to be spoken.

Bane's brows dropped, the hands that were holding her upper arms falling down her arms, settling them there as he contemplated her unspoken request. He searched her eyes momentarily before reaching back and unlatching the hardware that held the mask to his face. He took one huge breath into his mask before slowly easing the mask away and setting it next to his calf.

Myra's eyes wandered over his exposed face, seeing every scar and pore up close made her feel like she was being indulged in something rare and pure. She inched her face closer to his, her eyes locking onto his lips; large luscious, unmarred and perfect. Bane knew what she was after and let her stare for several moments before he leaned forward.

Bane's lips made contact with hers almost hesitantly, his actions uncharacteristically tender, unsure, and lacking the same confidence and conviction in which he performed every other task in his life. Myra was bemused by the slight awkwardness and shyness of his action, wondering if he had even kissed a woman before. _Or my awkwardness rubbed off on him. _Despite this, Myra had never felt anything so delicate and pleasurable against her lips before in her life. She knew as soon as his lips made contact with hers that the relationship that they had formulated had transcended into something else. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips instinctually responding by brushing against his with delicate swipes. Bane brought a hand to lock behind her head to ensure she didn't pull away, although he knew she wouldn't.

Bane watched her face as her eyes closed in content, his own lids falling partially down but not fully closing. Seeing the expression on her face as their lips met was almost as pleasurable as the act itself, and he didn't want to miss seeing the range of emotions that danced across her face. Bane eventually became emboldened and exploratory, his lips moving more vigorously against hers before his lips parted and she could feel the tip of his tongue tapping against her top lip as if asking for an invitation inside.

Myra complied readily, _hungrily_, opening her mouth for him. His tongue was immediately inside hers, exploring and tasting her. The hand that he kept at the back of her head entwined into her hair, gently massaging it as well as guiding her head into an angle that gave him deeper access into her mouth as he continued his oral exploration.

When Bane's tongue retreated back to his mouth, Myra allowed her curiosity and desires to take hold as her own tongue followed his into his mouth. She tasted him as he tasted her. He tasted like burning wood, almonds, and pure unadulterated masculinity. Myra couldn't get enough of it, her hand coming up to the side of his face, exploring it and roaming his skin now that there was no impedance of the mask to get in the way of her affections. Her hand wandered over and around his scalp, loving the smooth baldness of his head she could now feel so freely. Her hands rested on and fingered his ears, exploring the contours and softness of them. They seemed uncharacteristically soft and delicate.

All things must come to an end, however, and Bane used his hands to gently coax her away as his chest and spine started burning from the lack of medicine being pumped into his body. Myra was reluctant, almost belligerently so, but acquiesced after keeping their lips together for one more brief moment, a string of saliva connecting his lips to hers as he eased his head away before he put his mask back on. His hands fell to his knee to leverage himself as he pushed himself into a standing position. He towered over her as he stood, his breathing somewhat irregular and strained as it readjusted to the resumed inflow of anesthetic medicine.

"Let's go get your things before you decide you have more 'conditions' you'd like to declare," Bane said with strained humor, his voice and breathing huffy. Myra looked up at him, giving him a nod as a smile slowly blossomed on her enflamed lips.

* * *

Myra and Bane eventually made their way off of the bridge, Myra leading the way with Bane walking just at her shoulder. They didn't touch or hold hands, but Bane observed a slight spring in Myra's step that could only indicate her elevated level of mood.

They walked approximately a half a mile in the cold, the sun slowly setting at their backs. Myra finally led them down a street lined with townhouses and apartment complexes. She walked to the end of the street to what Bane assumed was where she lived, as she made her way up to the entrance. She took out a key and opened the door, holding it open for him as they both made their way inside. They climbed the three sets of stairs and walked down a quiet hallway before entering Myra's apartment.

Bane observed the state of disarray and filth that had piled up in Myra's apartment. He gave her a look of disgust, clearly judging her. She stared at him back, challenging him, understanding his judgmental look was directed at the state of garbage strewn everywhere.

"You live underground in the sewers like a mutant, okay? You can't judge me," she said sassily. "Besides, I wasn't expecting to come ba-…."

She felt like she suddenly slapped herself in the face. She stopped herself abruptly before fully completing the sentence, shocked that she had been able to say it so matter-of-factly. Casually.

Bane's eyes refocused on hers after giving one glance around the room, noting the severity and implications that her simple declaration held. They were both silent for several moments as they looked at each other before Bane turned to approach her slowly. Myra felt embarrassment and shame creep up her spine and decided to look down at the carpet.

"I have a condition of my own," Bane said gruffly, bringing one of his massive hands up to cup under her chin to ease it up so that her line of sight was aimed at his. Her eyes resettled on his as he made this statement, even going so far as to raise her eyebrows out of curiosity. Before she could even ask what his condition was, he leaned forward to wrap his arms around her waist, lifting her up bodily and slinging her over his shoulder like a rolled-up rug, his hand rested on her rump to help maintain her balance as he sauntered into the bedroom.

Bane sauntered right to the edge of her bed, leaning forward to drop her onto her back with a bounce on the bed. He immediately leaned his body forward over her, trapping her, using his arms as support on either side of her body as his face came within inches of hers like he was about to propose a secret in a very crowded space. Myra could feel his breath on her cheek as it was expelled through his mask. She assumed the condition he was going to declare had a playful nature and had something to do with both of them engaging in an activity on the bed, but she was proven wrong by the words that came out of his mouth.

"You are mine. That is my condition. If something or someone harms what is mine, there are consequences. Even for you," Bane said, heavily implying if she thought about harming or hurting herself out of grief, he wasn't going to tolerate it.

She knew he wasn't saying it to frighten her necessarily, but to imply something else; almost as if whatever he considered 'his' (which, as Myra observed, wasn't a lot considering the communal way he lived and his lack of possessions), that fact implied a certain level of revere and care to those who interacted with what was 'his', even if it was Myra herself.

Myra gave him a thoughtful look as he said this, digesting it before she let her lids drop skeptically.

"I'm assuming that goes both ways, right?" she said snidely. "That means you're mine too?"

Bane gave her a look as if she were the densest person on earth.

"Of course," he said with a half-nod that enforced his sincerity. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She let her skepticism ease considerably as a smile bloomed at the corner of her lips which induced a chain reaction of muscle relaxation and untensing throughout her body. She reached up with one hand and trailed it down the front of his chest.

Bane observed her reaction and what he assumed was her agreement to his condition. He kept his face close to hers for several more moments before he leaned back up off the bed. He removed his coat and threw it onto the floor, which was soon followed by his boots, socks, long-sleeved shirt, back brace (which he put on the edge of the bed so he could re-attach it after the rest of his clothes were off), pants, and underwear. As he was removing his clothing, Myra reclined back against the bed, snaking one of her hands behind her head to be used as a pillow and also as slight leverage so she could watch him undress. Bane picked up on her idleness immediately, however.

"Do you plan on just lying there or are you expecting me to do the work for you?" Bane asked haughtily between the removal of his long-sleeve shirt and pants.

Myra curled her toes against the hard exterior of her boots as he said this, the smile that was on her face inching upwards even more.

"I want you to do it," she teased, deciding she'd prefer that option now that it was incepted into her mind.

Bane stared back at her as she made her preference known. His eyes bore into hers, his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated on the task of removing his clothing. Once his underwear was off, his attention dropped to aid in reinstating his back-brace hardware in place. When he lifted his eyes back up to Myra, he saw she was giving his nakedness a very thorough look-over. He let out a snort that could have been easily interpreted as annoyance, though Myra sensed no displeasure from him other than the fact that he now had the extra task of removing her clothing as well, which he didn't seem to object to.

Bane decided to tease her by being methodical and slow with his movements, hoping to build up a moderate level of sexual frustration on her part. He started with her shoes, bending down on one knee to perform the task. Her feet were half sticking off the bed, so he pulled her by the foot just slightly towards him as her body slid against the bed about a foot in his direction, her clothing scrunching and catching between her body and the bedding. He guided one of her boots to rest on his bent knee like a prince testing out the fit of a glass slipper, unlacing the boot with care and making sure the laces were fully released and loose before he grabbed the tongue of the boot and eased it forward. He slid his hand over her socked foot at the calf, popping her foot out of the boot and dropping it to the floor. He held onto her foot between his massive hands, massaging it gently with his thumbs before his hands glided upward, encircling her calf. As his hands came back down her calf, they snagged and caught the sock that she wore. He slowly rolled the sock off of her foot, all the way down to the tip of her toe, before he plucked it off and tossed it aside next to her boot.

Myra adjusted her head and angled it so that she could gaze at him and watch the spectacle, her chin pointed down and rested on her collarbone. She kept her hands idle with one still behind her head and the other now rested on her stomach. She knew what he was doing, and despite his attempts at frustrating her over his leisurely methods, she was enjoying it immensely. How couldn't she? Her feet had ached prior to her boots being removed, and now that they were removed, they even had the added perk of receiving a generous massage from Bane's strong and talented hands that left them tingling and feeling light. She wasn't sure if her smile could get any deeper.

Bane looked up to meet her gaze between switching to replicate the treatment to her other boot, seeing her gazing down at him with a deep smile plastered on her face. The look she gave him unburdened some of the load he felt deep in his chest that had been tugging at his heart. It also unfortunately meant she wasn't as impatient as he had hoped for but was immensely enjoying the experience.

When he was finished with her feet, he adjusted his legs from underneath him so that he could slowly rise up and over her. As he did this, he firmly planted his hands on the exterior part of her legs, gliding them along the fabric of her pants but giving her skin and muscles periodic squeezes and rubs as he did so. When his hands reached her waistband, he lifted her shirt up to expose the button and zipper that kept them fastened around her waist. He slowly unbuttoned the button, letting his fingers curl behind the pant fabric and brushed a finger against the skin over her stomach. Myra noted that the index finger that he used to brush against her stomach lingered and stroked in ways that were not conducive to unbuttoning buttons.

Once finished, he unzipped the zipper slowly to expose gray-blue pair of underwear beneath her pants that matched the shade and tone of her eyes. Myra arched her back teasingly as he did this, the fingers she had on her stomach fidgeting lightly against her skin as she eyed him. Bane didn't linger but sat back away from her so he could grab the bottom hem of her pants at either leg hole. He suddenly – and aggressively - yanked her pants off with one tug, catching her mildly by surprise and also forcing her to glide and inch towards him on bed due to the pants not immediately coming off.

"Hey! What happened to the gentle guy approach, huh?" Myra snarked.

Bane ignored her, realizing he was punishing himself far more than he was her over his own choice of methodology. He decided it was time to accelerate the removal process before he burst. He leaned forward to grab her roughly by the arm, pulling her towards him so that he could force her arm through the jacket sleeve she was wearing. She realized his 'gentle guy' approach was gone as she looked up at his eyes and saw a heated fervor and determination take over. She decided it was in her best interest to aid him in the rest of the removal of her clothing unless he started resorting to just shredding her clothing off.

Her jacket and shirt came off easily and were piled on top of Bane's on the floor. As she reached up to unfasten her bra, Bane reached forward and ripped the bra clean off at the front center, easing it out of her arms and throwing it on the ground.

"HEY NOW…. it would have taken 3 seconds to unfasten it…." Myra chided, turning to look at the shredded bra topping the pile of clothes on the floor.

Bane, as typical of most of her complaints, ignored her and moved down to the remaining piece of clothing she wore. He eyed her gray-blue underwear, and they too received the same treatment as her bra. He tore them at the side seams, unfolding the fabric and exposing her flesh delicately as if he were opening up a fragile birthday present. He then reached under her bottom and took hold of the remnants of the underwear and tugging them out from under her, tossing them with the rest of its comrades on the floor.

"Whelp, there goes my favorite underwear. That color is hard to find…." Myra sighed as if that was the only thing that mattered in the room and the whole world depended on their survival.

"I'll get you new ones," Bane said absentmindedly, something else clearly consuming his mind. _As if it were as simple as that._ Myra just narrowed her eyes at him, though she knew she wasn't truly upset about it but just liked complaining at him. Most of the times he didn't respond, probably picking up on the fact that most of her complaints were superficial or nonsensical. When he did, however, it always brought her amusement and delight.

Bane let his eyes roam over her entire exposed body on the bed as he stood up. Myra maintained her position on her back with her feet hanging off the edge of the bed haphazardly, one hand still behind her head being idly used as a pillow while her other hand fidgeted on her stomach. While he was gazing at her, the smile that had faltered momentarily from the clothing-removal process regained its place on her face. Her knees had been firmly pressed together, but she let them slowly ease apart teasingly, invitingly, as her eyes fell down suggestively to his unavoidable and large erection pointing right at her.

Bane took the hint and instead of leaning forward over her, he reached forward and grabbed hold of each of her calves and yanked her closer to him, her bottom scooting to the very edge of the bed. Keeping his feet planted on the carpeted floor, he pushed her knees apart wide as he stepped forward, positioning one of his hands under her bent knee pressed at the side of his waist with his other hand reaching forward to begin probing her glistening folds.

He was extremely thorough and generous with his caresses, teasing the swollen flesh between her thighs and encouraging her into a greater state of arousal and readiness for him. Myra maintained eye contact with him as he performed this task, though she felt her hands become restless as her hand reached down and stroked the forearm that was attached to the hand that was giving her goosebumps.

Myra felt lightheaded; she felt like she was an exclusive member to a playground that was Bane's body. As she thought this, she bent forward at the waist, leaning up to glide her hand over his exposed chest, feeling the muscles and the heated skin underneath and letting her hand roam almost on its own accord. She loved exclusive memberships. Especially when she was the only member.

Bane pushed her back against the bed aggressively after several moments of her restless hand syndrome, holding her down as he continued delving a finger around and inside her opening. Sometimes he would utilize two fingers, inserting them into her in such a way that caused Myra to arch her back aggressively and squeeze her eyes shut before she felt their removal. They would then circle around and coat her opening with the lubricated jelly they had captured inside of her, preparing her for what was to come.

Myra knew he was done with his finger task when he wiped his fingers against her inner thigh like he was cleaning off a knife that needed to be cleaned of excess peanut butter, leaving a light glossy patch on her skin reminiscent of a snail trail.

Bane used his 'cleaned off' hand to grab hold of his penis, casually steering it towards her entrance like he was docking a space module onto a space station. Once the tip was in, he didn't hesitate – or possibly couldn't constrain himself – from aggressively thrusting his hips forward to fully enter her, easing his hips back to immediately repeat the process of propelling his hips forward again, giving her no time to properly adjust to him and his size. Bane felt no serious impedance, however, due to her elevated state of arousal and her body already being intimately familiar with him and his size.

Myra gazed up at him in awe, feeling some sense of power transference with every thrust he delivered into her as if she could feel his essence, authority, and power being funneled into her at their physical joining. She could feel it snaking around inside of her, a tingling feeling that made her feel bolder, assured, and safe. _Home. _She felt it like pin-pricks on her fingertips. She felt it numbing her toes. She felt it heating her core. She felt it glaze over her eyes as moisture budded against her eyelashes. She could barely make out the impossibly muscular, dominant man who was unquestionably fixated on her, devoting his entire attention on her, as her eyes became fully laminated with tears from the feeling of an orgasm slowly rising and erupting in a sudden burst of energy. She closed her eyes as it took hold of her body and senses, her body clenching around his.

Myra felt herself relating very strongly to an éclair pastry that had been filled to the brim with pastry cream. She was no pastry, however, and it wasn't pastry cream that she felt being pushed deep up inside of her center with force that felt like jet-like propulsion. Bane forcefully came inside of her moments after he felt her body squeeze around his, expediting his release. He exhaled a lower powerful grunt during the ordeal, inexplicably causing Myra's toes to curl.

Myra's eyes slowly opened after she released a huge breath from her chest, her eyes roaming from the ceiling down to Bane, who looked dazed and spent as his head shifted to look around the room idly in exhaustion. He refocused his attention on her when he realized her eyes were open and her attention was on his. He slid a hand from under her knee up to her thigh, holding her in place as he slowly removed himself from inside her with extreme care.

Bane massaged her thigh affectionately before roughly grabbing it to twist and flip her onto her stomach on the bed, giving her a playful swat on her exposed behind.

"Time to get dressed," he ordered with a slight wheeze indicating he was still recovering from the exertion of their actions. Myra turned and looked at the shredded underwear and bra topping the pile of clothes, and then turned back to him to give him a very disagreeable look.

* * *

_**Author: You! Write a review! Let me know what you think! ***If no one reviews/says anything, I'm assuming no one likes it. NO ONE******_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

_**Author: Oh man so much happens in this chapter – sorry it's longer! Don't forget to review! Even if you think your review won't matter – FALSE. It matters! Also, thank you random 'Guest' Reviewer who decided to read this story instead of sleeping. You're my hero. **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

Myra felt that she and Bane were parallels, different sides of the same coin. Myra figured he had killed three bad men for a good reason, whereas she had inadvertently killed three good men for a bad, almost selfish reason. Myra felt that her actions had transcended her into the same plane Bane inhabited from a moral standpoint. While their motives may have been different, and the effect that the deaths of those individuals had on them was extremely varied (with Bane barely bashing an eyelid, already forgetting those he had eliminated, and Myra unable to wipe the faces of the officers whose death she had influenced from her mind), they came together in one regard; if given the chance to go back in time, they wouldn't have changed anything differently.

As they made their way back to the underground reflow base, Myra found the cot in his room was replaced with a second-hand full-size bed that took up a good portion of his room and was pushed up against the corner where the books had once been stacked. The books were relocated under the bed for storage. She wondered how it got replaced so fast, concluding that Bane must have texted or phoned someone back at the base to have it replaced before they got back.

Myra was initially confined to the room, though the door wasn't locked, and no one watched to ensure she stayed in the room; it was more of an unofficial request. She noticed an increase in activity in the base, as well as an influx in unfamiliar faces. That, if anything else, encouraged her to seek refuge in the room where she knew no one dared enter.

During times when Bane wasn't away on business, he would usually saunter into the room in the evening, taking off his military vest and brace, shirt, and sometimes his cargo pants and he would then crawl into the full-size bed next to Myra who was usually already in it nestled under the covers. While the bed was generally large, it wasn't a queen or a king size bed; Bane was also a large fellow, so he usually had to sleep right up next to Myra if he wanted to maintain any comfort while sleeping on the bed.

Sometimes Bane would pass out immediately after settling in the bed, barely getting an arm around her to pull her close. Other times he would bring his hands to her hips to pull her back up against him in a proper spooning position, his head generally leaning down to take in her scent at her shoulder for several minutes before either Myra or Bane passed out; it was hard to say who was lulled into sleep first by the soft mechanical breathing generated by his mask.

There were other times, of course, in which passivity and sleep weren't immediately on their mind. One positive outcome of having an actual bed instead of a cot was that Myra no longer had PTSD concerning the cot suddenly breaking from under her during the adult activities she engaged in with Bane. The bed withstood the force of their actions, and they were both able to eventually pass out and sleep tangled in each other's limbs under sweaty sheets.

The routine that had been established prior to her leaving was also eliminated; gone were the days where, like clockwork, Bane or Barsad would come in and keep her company. She had to go seek out their company if she wanted it. She didn't initially mind this, but she found Bane and Barsad to be particularly busy and distracted; more so than usual. She decided to keep her requests to a minimum, finding other ways to keep herself occupied. This led to the eventual transition into her first job that she had declared as one of her conditions upon her return.

Bane deposited a substantial amount of money into an account and put her in charge of it. This shocked Myra initially, surprised at the trust he had in her; she could easily transfer the $2,000,000 she was now in charge of into her own personal account and go run off somewhere and live comfortably for the rest of her days. She didn't do that of course, but the fact that she _could _and that Bane, to some degree, anticipated that she _wouldn't _because he trusted her made her feel more connected to him on another level. His only indicator was that she explore and utilize some investing and savings techniques that she had learned while working in the stock exchange as well as from school. She was able to do this all through online trading directly from a computer that Bane also provided her.

Considering she had only really worked in the Gotham Stock Exchange for several weeks, her insight and intuition when it came to invest in stocks was severely limited. After the first week, the $2,000,000 was down to $800,000. She almost wet herself the morning she realized she had made several really terrible investments. She was extremely reluctant to even bring it up, hoping Bane wouldn't even notice that a huge amount of money was suddenly missing from the account.

However, he eventually asked her idly how she was doing with the account, and she reluctantly divulged the news awkwardly. Bane didn't say anything but gave her a look that clearly indicated he knew she could do better than that. Myra thought that was the end of it, and that she would just keep utilizing the rest of the dwindling funds in the account until it possibly ran out due to her failures.

The next morning when she checked the account again, however, she saw that the money had been mysteriously replenished, even with an additional $1,000,0000. She was both shocked and grateful, feeling like it was the equivalent of waking up one morning and finding a rose or a cute stuffed animal next to her head from a partner as an indicator from them that they were thinking and cared about you. However, a replenishment of money and an additional $1,000,000 was way more useful than a rose or a stuffed animal, in Myra's opinion.

She was considerably more careful this time around, not wanting to disappoint Bane again with her inadequacies. She managed to invest properly, raising the $3,000,000 up to $4,250,000 in a few weeks, which was shocking. She felt that she had learned a great deal about the art and intricacies of trading stocks during that time, and that it was incredibly refreshing to actually be able to invest and explore options without feeling like one small step would cause her own financial ruin. This allowed her to make trading decisions that weren't motivated by emotion.

She also liked the freedom of exploring and investing in what _she _wanted, without a company dictating the type of stocks she should invest in. Bane would sometimes come into their room and see her glued to the computer, fixated on the stock numbers that fluctuated throughout the day, blatantly ignoring him as she entirely focused and devoted herself to her task. He didn't mind, for that level of involvement in an activity was his intention all along. He also knew it would have the inadvertent side effect of allowing Myra to educate herself further about finances and stocks, possibly making her feel like her career and degree didn't go to waste. He wasn't going to disclose that being one of the main reasons for him assigning her to the account, however, much preferring that she assume that she was in charge of a large amount of money in hopes of making that sum even larger to aid Bane on a financial level. He, of course, didn't need assistance on a financial level. Again, not something Myra needed to know.

Bane was also aware of the monster he created through the observation of the friendship Myra and Barsad formed, who undoubtedly were the closest to him on a personal level at the base. He would sometimes overhear Myra make half-hearted complaints about Bane to Barsad like, "Doesn't it bother you when he does this…?", with Barsad nodding non-committedly in agreement. He noticed Myra usually had these complaints when she must have known he was within ear shot, possibly testing for some sort of reaction, which Bane never gave.

* * *

After roughly two weeks of this routine, Myra was informed of her second 'job'. Her designated job was doing supply runs out of town. While she wasn't allowed to fly solo despite her flight record and private pilot's license for both small private airplanes and helicopters that she had acquired following her grandmother's death and her exploration into the world prior to entering the college life, she was allowed to be co-pilot and keep track of the supplies that they were picking up.

The first day of her new 'job', she was escorted by the main pilot (who was a gentleman named Steve who was a very passive individual, to Myra's amusement) to a rooftop where a helicopter was parked idly on a helicopter pad. She was wearing an unflattering green flight suit to try and 'blend in' with Steve, who wore a similar suit. A few of Bane's men were already inside the helicopter, ready to accompany them to their destination. She was practically hopping with excitement on the roof as she made her way towards the helicopter.

She didn't make it all of the way to the helicopter, however, for she felt a hand grab her abruptly on her upper arm, stopping her in her tracks. She turned around to see Bane, his other hand holding a pilot's helmet. She looked down at it as Bane released his hold on her arm and grabbed the helmet with both of his hands, bringing it up over her head and slowly lowering it back down as if he were about to crown her on the head with an imaginary crown.

He settled the helmet over on top of her head, squishing it down non-too-gently so that it fit snuggly around her face.

"You aren't to take this helmet off while you are out, is that understood?" Bane said as he shoved some of her hair up inside the helmet for her with his large fingers.

Myra looked up at him as she attempted to adjust the helmet to be a bit more comfortable on her head.

"Why? I'm pretty sure if the helicopter crashed, this helmet isn't going to save me," she said jokingly.

Bane kept his hands settled on the helmet as he looked down at her, his brows furrowed into a look of concern but also clearly giving her a look meant to indicate this wasn't something he was willing to compromise or discuss extensively about.

"While that would be unfortunate, it's not to protect you from injury. It's to hide your identity," he said, finally removing his hands from her helmet, crossing his arms over his chest as if challenging her to debate his reasoning.

Myra thought about the logic behind his words. Myra's mysterious disappearance from her housing that the state had provided her while she recovered from her 'ordeal' would undoubtedly lead to some sort of missing person's case. It wouldn't be regarded as a kidnapping, a murder, or even an attempted suicide on her end because she had clearly taken the time to remove her personal belongings from her apartment indicating she had time to pack and to leave without a trace; something she would not have been afforded to do if she were kidnapped or killed. Bane preferred the authorities simply thinking she ran away or even was dead.

Myra had no reason argue, but instead started pushing the tips of her hair up that he missed into the helmet to further disguise her appearance. When she was done, she let her hands settle on her hips with her arms bent akimbo, giving him a nod, the excitement that radiated from her similar to a grade-school student off to their first day of school and bidding their parent farewell.

Bane simply regarded her; the sound of his breathing mechanically amplified from his mask. He finally let out an irritated grunt before turning away and sauntering off back towards the exit of the helicopter pad.

* * *

Sometimes Myra, Steve, and a handful of Bane's men would pick up supplies that were just a half an hour to an hour away from Gotham. Other times it required hours of air travel and an overnight stay before they eventually reached their designation. When the trip required more than several hours of Myra's time, Bane would send Barsad with Myra to ensure that everything went smoothly. Barsad seemed indifferent about this arrangement but didn't seem particularly put-out when Myra made him play cards or converse with her about a variety of topics during their down time when on these trips. Since Myra's return and her apparent adoption by Bane, Barsad seemed significantly more open and freer with the information he shared with her.

One name that came up during these conversations was "Talia". Myra was genuinely shocked and surprised to learn that Bane wasn't actually 'the leader', but that he, in fact, followed someone else. She got the immediate impression that this woman must be a wizened, aged old soul with vast wisdom in the realm of mercenaries and plots.

Aside from Myra extracting as much information she could out of Barsad about Talia and Bane in general, she also managed to give Barsad unsolicited advice about what women might want from a man, in case he was curious and wanted to improve the relationship he had with his wife. Myra wasn't sure if he ignored her when she talked about these kinds of topics; his face always remained non-committal and passive.

One thing that Myra noticed during these supply runs was the actual contents of the supplies. She got the impression that there was going to be some sort of siege within Gotham, though she knew that idea was ridiculous. The amount of food, ammo, and various supplies they were picking up could support Bane and his men for months, years even. She wasn't sure why he even needed this much stuff to be filtered into Gotham, considering they could get most of the supplies within Gotham if they wanted, and if it wasn't a conventional item, then it would just be a short drive away. She didn't ask questions and was just thankful she was doing something that didn't involve injuring people or blowing things up.

* * *

The random soldiers and mercenaries under Bane's command accepted her without much regard, though those that may have seen and knew her as a hostage may have found her presence odd. Most simply assumed she was a shorter male, since when she was out performing duties, on top of wearing the helmet, she wore a loose flight suit with a baggy jacket to hide her narrower frame. She also took note that when Bane was in his element of issuing orders and commanding his men, he gave her no mind; in fact, he gave her little to none of his attention unless it was necessary to perform a task. He would barely even look at her if they passed paths, though she would see his eyes flicker towards hers once in a while. She didn't hold it against him, knowing he had to maintain an image of authority and that he also had to concentrate on the numerous amounts of tasks he was simultaneously juggling in his mind while going about his day.

There was one instance, however, when she was walking in an isolated hallway in the underground reflow system, absorbed in the material list in front of her, failing to hear the footsteps quickly approaching behind her; or perhaps they were purposefully silenced to mask their presence. Either way, she felt a large hand grip her upper arm and swing her around abruptly, causing her to drop her clipboard, her expression one of complete surprise.

She looked up to see Bane, evidence of a smile on his face by the textured crinkles around his eyes as he looked down at her playfully. He brought a hand up to cup the side of her face, his other hand moved to her hip, holding her lightly as he closed his eyes and brought his forehead down to touch hers in an intimate gesture. He held this position for several moments, taking big deep breaths as if he were taking in her scent. And then just as quickly as he came, he detached himself from her and continued on his way right past her, leaving Myra dumbfounded, her mouth held slightly agape.

She bent down to pick up her clipboard, wiping it off of debris and water that had marred the paper.

"Can't go anywhere these days without getting harassed…." she joked to herself, a smile spreading across her face.

After roughly a month of Myra's supply running, the frequency of the trips significantly diminished. Bane didn't elaborate on the reasons for why he no longer needed her to go and fetch supplies as regularly, though she assumed it had something to do with the fact that their storage was already at full capacity and that it seemed absurd that they would even have the remote chance of consuming and using all of the supplies they did have.

* * *

One morning, as Myra sat idly on the bed reading a book, Bane entered the room. The weather had transitioned slowly into fall, which warranted warmer clothing. This resulted in Bane frequently wearing a large shearling brown coat that had a collar that flared around his neck. It looked comfortably lined with light-colored wool and looked extremely warm. Myra always wondered where he would even get a coat like that, almost jealous and wishing she had one like it.

He didn't fully enter the room, but very apparently was there to deliver her a quick message.

"Pack up. We're moving," he said simply, turning to leave through the door.

Myra startled at his statement, looking around their room that they had both co-habited for several months together now, feeling a pang at the prospect of a change in her surroundings. True, while they did live underground in the sewers, and it generally smelled and was moist and was noisy and dark, Myra had grown to enjoy it. Mostly, if not entirely, because Bane was also there. This realization allowed her mind to ease at the prospect of moving somewhat. Before Bane could fully exit, however, Myra jumped from the bed towards him.

"Moving? Moving where?" she asked hurriedly.

Bane turned to give her an impatient look and a sigh through his mask, eyeing her up and down. Myra got the impression he had somewhere he had to be and had limited time for explanations.

"You'll find out when we get there. Pack up what you want to bring; leave everything else," he said, turning again to very clearly dismiss her.

Myra turned to look at what she could even potentially pack. She hadn't brought a lot with her; mostly clothes and some smaller personal items. She shrugged and simply began shoving her entire life's contents into a duffel bag without further thought.

* * *

Bane came back several hours later to retrieve her with her belongings. He flung her large duffel bag over his shoulder with ease and exited the room without further fuss. Myra simply followed him, stopping at the door to turn and give the room with the pedestal sink, full-size bed, shower, and books that had held a significant amount of memories for her one last final sweep before turning back to catch up with him.

Bane led her to the surface street, Myra blinded by the sun that was shining down on them. She turned to Bane, worried about him walking so brazenly and open around in the street, seeming disinterested in the prospect of someone seeing him. They made their way to a large SUV with tinted windows, Bane flinging the duffel bag into the back of the car, before opening the back-passenger door for Myra to hop into it.

She flung herself into the car, putting a seat belt on. She looked up to the driver, seeing Barsad in the driver's seat. She flashed him an excited smile, feeling the type of excitement she would feel as if they were about to go on a family road trip, though he simply stared at her with a look of passive disinterest. Bane got into the front passenger side, and as soon as his door was closed, Barsad put his foot on the petal and they made their way down the street.

They didn't drive far, and Myra almost knew immediately where it was that they stopped at; John Daggett's penthouse building. She pressed herself against the tinted glass to gaze up at the building, her mouth dropping slightly. She wasn't sure if they were stopping here first for an errand run, or if there was some other motive.

When both Barsad and Bane got out of the car, with Bane going around to grab her duffel bag, she knew that this was the new 'home'. She got out of the car reluctantly, eyeing Bane. She felt like it would be an extremely awkward and uncomfortable scenario to encounter the owner of the company she once worked for, particularly since she was accompanied by the same men that had taken her hostage, which he would undoubtedly know about.

"This…is John Daggett's building?" Myra stated hesitantly.

Bane turned his head to give her a look.

"Astute observation. It is indeed," Bane said with condescension.

Myra narrowed her eyes at him, her lips forming into a line.

"I don't think…I….don't want….is he letting us stay with him…..? I don't think…..Does he know you….?" Myra couldn't even figure out which question she wanted to focus on, too much was going on through her brain.

Bane must have picked up on her trepidation and unanswered questions.

"John Daggett is dead, we have taken ownership of his building," Bane said simply to clear the air.

Myra stared. _How had I not heard about the owner of the company I once worked for dying? Who was in charge now? How did he die?_...

Myra's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"How…..?" she asked, almost not wanting to know the answer but feeling compelled to ask the question anyhow.

"I killed him," Bane said simply, turning his body to look at her straight in the eyes, seemingly not caring that they were standing open in the street between the entrance to the penthouse building and the vehicle they arrived in. Barsad stood off to the side, looking around their surroundings idly.

Myra's face paled. While she knew Bane had certainly killed people, the prospect of him killing people 'just for sport' or because they had something he wanted was…. _Monstrous? Inhumane? Insane? _

Bane must have picked up on her extreme unease of the situation. He approached her slowly so that he could lower his voice and speak to her on a softer level.

"He overstepped himself. You may also not be aware, but he was instrumental in pointing you out as a hostage for my men to take during the Gotham Stock Exchange incident. We were to work with him to ensure you were returned quickly and safely. His handling of that matter was…disappointing," Bane said, lowering his chin to analyze her, waiting for her reaction.

Anger immediately replaced the sympathy and unease she had felt over the prospect of John Daggett's death. _THAT ASSHOLE. He CHOSE me? He told KNOWN terrorists and merceneries to pick me out and take me? GUH! ….what an absolute miserable human being. I can't believe I worked for him. GROSS. _

Bane could see the anger rising in Myra's chest and in her eyes. While his words were mostly true, he decided to hold the added bit that while indeed John Daggett had pointed out his employees in brown coats and thus as appropriate targets, he thought it wouldn't hurt to let her think that John Daggett specifically chose her for various nefarious reasons. Bane chose the hostages in brown coats that day at complete random; there were at least a dozen brown coats at the stock exchange. She just happened to be closest to Bane when he made his selection.

Bane watched with humor as Myra's lips slowly started forming into words, presumably of the slur variety, as he grabbed hold of her upper arm and coaxed her forward into the penthouse building. She went obligingly.

* * *

Being relocated to the penthouse allowed Myra and Bane a taste of what it was like to actually live together in a domestic capacity. It provided them a moderate level of privacy and lack of predominantly militaristic and collapsible equipment and furniture, mildew, slime, moisture, mold, and pipes consuming their environment.

Myra was even surprised and quite frankly, enjoying some of the more luxurious amenities, almost blatantly ignoring the fact that they even had access to and were using the penthouse because Bane had killed John Daggett.

Some of these amenities included an actual fitness and weight room, and indoor pool with a sauna and hot tub, a bar next to the pool, a huge library, a private home movie theater room to watch movies on a projector, and a game room that had activities like a pool table and vintage arcade machines. While Myra knew that the penthouse didn't strictly house just her and Bane knowing he had moved a good portion of his men to the building also, she was always curiously surprised as the complete lack of occupants using these rooms when she went and explored.

* * *

Bane had allowed Myra to tag along with him when he went to a room in the penthouse building that was strictly designated for weight lifting and body building. Or she simply followed him one day when he ambled his way to the location like a stray cat; it was hard to say how the arrangement of her accompanying him while he worked out actually began.

It initially started with her just either standing or sitting and ogling him at his feats of strength before it eventually transitioned into giving him words of encouragement, and ultimately 'advice'. Considering she had no prior weight lifting or body building experience, her expertise was usually nonsensical and borderline distracting.

The routine of her offering him advice like, 'You have to lift it better," or "Your face looks like it's going to pop," was either ignored by Bane or he would pause from the exertion he was currently undergoing as if regarding her advice. He would allow himself to catch a breath before his head would slowly turn to her as if latching on target, saunter over to her, and then snatch her quickly to bodily lift her up in repetitions as a replacement for the heavy object he had been lifting. Her weight paled in comparison to what he had been lifting, so these moments were usually treated as a time for Bane to regain his stamina and recover from fatigue. Myra found these instances incredibly thrilling, sometimes bursting into fits of laughter and clinging desperately to his forearm as she tried not to squirm else she throw her balance off and cause Bane to lose his hold on her. One time he teased her by pretending to lose grip on her and dramatically lurched her one direction as if about to drop her, but he ceased doing that after he experienced a golden liquid raining down onto him after Myra very clearly wet herself.

* * *

Myra went into the bathroom of the master suite to find Bane brushing his teeth hurriedly with his mask resting on the edge of the sink. She saw he was using the toothbrush with a red handle; that was _her _toothbrush. She immediately grimaced.

"EW. That's my toothbrush!" Myra exclaimed, horrified. Disgusted.

Bane lifted his eyes to the mirror in front of him, using it to gaze at her from a reflected angle. He finished several last aggressive sweeps of his mouth with the tooth brush, unphased by what she said before he dispelled the foamy contents of his mouth into the sink, rinsed it quick, putting the tooth brush with the red handle on the same spot on the sink where she had been placing hers, and put his mask back on.

"Oh? Does it matter? I seem to recall an instance in which we thoroughly explored each other's mouths," he said, as if that rationalized the use of her tooth brush.

She continued to scowl. "Yes, that's _different_. I wasn't swiping plaque off of your teeth with my tongue," she said.

Bane nodded at her, seeming to agree with her point. "Interesting. Well, if that's your stance, you had better use your own tooth brush then," he said matter-of-factly.

"_That _is my tooth brush," she said.

"No, it's not," he said, as he swung the medicine cabinet door open, revealing an identical red-handled tooth brush sitting on the shelf inside next to his shaving equipment. "I believe this is your tooth brush."

Myra's face turned red. _Oh yeah. I forgot I put it there... _She let the redness creep into her face, crossing her arms over her chest awkwardly as her anger slowly deflated from her chest. _Ooops. I've been using "HIS" toothbrush…._

Bane found this incredibly amusing, who passed by her but not before resting a hand on her shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze.

* * *

Not soon after the relocation of Myra and his men from the underground sewer system, Bane payed a visit to the Wayne Enterprise Board. He stood patiently at the head of the table, his men holding the full table of board members hostage in their seats by gun point as they waited for the expected arrival of Lucius Fox and Miranda Tate.

"I still don't see the need of a board meeting for the energy project," Fox said was heard saying out in the hallway as he was approaching the board room.

"Bruce got a lot of things right. Keeping the board in the dark was not one of them," Miranda replied to him.

Miranda and Fox rounded the corner into the board room but stopped in their tracks at the spectacle of Bane standing at the head of the table flanked by several of his men holding assault rifles.

"How good of you to join us. Chair. President," Bane said to Fox and Miranda. They simply stared back at him.

"All I need now is one more ordinary board member," Bane said as if he were in the process of collecting a full set of action figures and was just one-shy of making a complete set. Bane turned towards Fox.

"Mr. Fox, would you like to nominate?" Bane inquired with strained politeness.

The look Lucius Fox gave Bane indicated very strongly that no, he did not want to nominate anyone for that role.

"No. I will volunteer," Fredericks quickly volunteered, not wanting to putt Fox in the awkward position of having to delegate someone as a fellow hostage.

Bane immediately began exiting the board room after having a complete set of board members.

"Where are you taking us?" Fox asked. Bane didn't respond.

* * *

"You were right, commissioner," Foley said as he entered Commissioner Gordan's hospital room.

"What happened?" Gordon inquired with concern.

"Your masked man kidnapped the Wayne Enterprises board. He let most of them go, but he took three of them into the sewers," Foley explained with excitement and anxiety in his voice.

Gordon stewed with this information briefly in his hospital bed before turning to look at Foley decidedly.

"No more patrols. No more hide and seek. Get every available cop down there and smoke him out!" Gordon said with heated passion.

"The mayor won't want panic," Foley eased out.

"So, it's a training exercise," Detective Blake said, offering a solution.

Foley nodded, seeming pacified with that excuse, turning to go but stopped to give Gordon one last look.

"I'm sorry I didn't take you seriously," Foley said apologetically, before he turned and left.

Blake turned to leave also, but Gordon stopped him.

"Not you!" Gordon shouted, grabbing Blake's attention.

"You're telling me the Batman's gone, so you chase up the Daggett leads. Any way you can," Gordon ordered Blake.

"Yes sir," Blake said with a slight nod, leaving the hospital room to go and complete this new task assigned to him by Gordon.

* * *

Bane led the three Wayne Enterprise board members to an underground structure that also served as temporary storage for some of the more lethal weapons that were acquired from the armory at Wayne Enterprise. They made their way down a long cement spillway, before Bane issued an order for a small hole to be blasted with explosives against the wall at the end of one of the spillway corridors. Once a hole was blasted, they made their way through to the spectacle of the nuclear reactor seated in its core.

Bane ambled up to a large terminal next to the nuclear core, motioning to the board members.

"Turn it on," Bane ordered them.

None of them respond to his demand. Bane waited several moments more before he gave a signal to Barsad, who immediately pushed Fredericks to the ground.

"I only need one other board member. There are eight others waiting," Bane says threateningly.

"I won't do it," Fox says boldly, decidedly, seemingly disinterested in Frederick's vulnerable position.

Bane signals again, and a pistol is cocked against Frederick's head.

"Alright stop. Lucius, you'll kill this man, and yourself and you'll barely slow them down," Miranda says as she approaches the terminal requiring a board member hand print. She puts her hand print over the glass, followed reluctantly by Lucius and Fredericks. The power of the core immediately starts revving.

"Go on then. Do your work," Bane says as he turns to Dr. Pavel. Dr. Pavel immediately begins to perform the task of militarizing the nuclear core reactor.

Bane turns his attention back to the board members.

"Take them up to the surface. People of their status deserve to experience the next era of western civilization," Bane says, dismissing the board members.

After approximately three hours or so of Dr. Pavel's workings, he sighs, easing himself back away from the nuclear core.

"It is done. This is now a four-megaton nuclear bomb," Dr. Pavel says with exhaustion.

Bane nods agreeably before gesturing with his hand toward the nuclear reactor.

"Pull the core out of the reactor," Bane ordered.

"No, you cannot!" Dr. Pavel shouted in dismay. Bane's men immediately begin dismantling and removing the core from the reactor.

"This is the only power source capable of sustaining it," Dr. Pavel continues, clearly distraught.

Alarms start to go off, indicating the severity of the core being removed from the core.

"If you move it, the core will decay in a matter of months!" Dr. Pavel rationalizes, still very clearly dismayed.

"Five, by my calculations," Bane says passively.

"And then it will go off!" Dr. Pavel screams.

"And for the sake of your children, Dr. Pavel, indeed, I hope it does," Bane eases out before he rises up from his seated position, moving towards the exit with his men and Dr. Pavel in tow.

* * *

Meanwhile, during Detective Blake's investigation into the pattern work based on the civil engineering maps he acquired, he made a startling discovery involving the use of cement laced with explosives around the city. He immediately realizes that it's Bane's intention to blow up the entrances around the sewers, ultimately trapping the police officers that are, in that moment, being funneled into it by an impassioned Foley in the hopes of catching Bane. Detective Blake tries to contact Foley in desperation to alert him of the impending plot, to no avail.

* * *

Bane returned back to surface after his task of releasing the nuclear reactor from the core was complete, thus setting in motion the 5-month detonation timer. He exited from below ground to the stadium where a Gotham Rogue's football game will be taking place. Bane listened idly during the initial singing of the national anthem, nodding contentedly.

"That's a lovely, lovely voice," Bane said idly, to no one in particular.

Bane signaled to Barsad to hand him the detonator, waiting for the child signing to finish his song and exit the field.

"Let the games begin," Bane said in jest, as he pressed the button. A massive rumbling of explosions was heard deep underground, as if a monster was stirring from a deep slumber.

The explosions immediately trapped the police inside the sewers. It also lay waste to the football field. The bridges and means of getting out of Gotham were removed, as explosions crippled them at the middle. The mayor of Gotham was killed from a planted explosion inside the executive viewing box at the game. After the rumbling subsided, Bane entered the field. He grabbed a microphone from a fallen referee.

"Gotham…take control!" Bane said, raising a hand

"Take control of your city!" Bane said again as if making an attempt to calm down the spectators.

"This…this is the instrument of your liberation," Bane continued, as he took a step back as Dr. Pavel was brought forth onto the field.

"Identify yourself to the world," Bane said as Pavel was dragged in front of him and forced into a kneeling position.

"Dr. Leonid Pavel, nuclear physicist," Pavel says reluctantly.

"And what is this," Bane says, pointing to the nuclear bomb that was also brought out onto the field.

"It's a full primed neutron bomb with a blast radius of six miles," Dr. Pavel explained into the microphone.

"And who is capable of disarming such a device?" Bane inquired energetically.

"Only me," Dr. Pavel said with mild pride.

"Only you," Bane said, with a hint of sadness creeping into his voice.

"Thank you, good doctor," Bane said, before twisting Dr. Pavel's neck, killing him instantly.

"Now. This bomb is armed! This bomb is mobile! And the identity of the triggerman is a mystery. For one of you holds the detonator. Now, we come here not as conquerors, but as liberators. To return control of this city to the people. And the first sign of interference from the outside world or from those people attempting to flee this anonymous Gothamite…this unsung hero, will trigger the bomb," Bane boomed into the microphone, turning his body to sweep his audience with a grand wave of his arm.

"For now, martial law is in effect. Return to your homes. Hold your families close. And wait. Tomorrow, you claim what is rightfully yours." Bane drops the microphone onto the corpse before turning to exit.

* * *

While Myra wasn't a sports fan herself, she had been watching the news that evening. The news immediately diverted to broadcast the events that were happening at the Gotham Rogue stadium. She got up from her seated position on the bed and started walking like a zombie towards the TV, not sure that what – _or who _\- she was seeing on the TV was true.

However, it was hard to mistake Bane for anyone else. She felt the vibration of explosions erupting and going off near her building outside, causing her panic and fear wondering if her building was about to collapse. She turned her attention to the broadcast of the stadium being blown up, as well as the bridges around Gotham being destroyed. She also watched, riveted, as Bane delivered his speech to the stadium. Her mouth dropped open.

* * *

While Myra knew who Bane was – _he's a mercenary _– she always assumed he preferred working in the shadows and maintaining a certain level of anonymity. This also meant that his acts of terror were most definitely limited in scope in an attempt to limit the attention being diverted to him. When he blew up Gotham's infrastructure, and essentially took all of the citizens of Gotham hostage, Myra quite frankly didn't know how she should feel about that. She didn't feel _'great'_ about it. In fact, she felt downright nauseous.

She had never felt more awkward around Bane than she did when he eventually made his way back up to the penthouse room that they shared. She didn't immediately look at him, and when she turned to face him, she didn't look at him in the eyes.

Bane noticed, but he didn't react or draw attention to her behavior. His mind was obviously occupied with an infinite number of tasks that were set in motion. He left her in the room after briefly rendezvousing with her to check in on her.

Myra waited for him to exit before she beelined to the game room to process her thoughts. While she didn't want to consider herself 'desensitized' to Bane's nature, she definitely felt sensitized to his recent exploits. Not as much as she would have cared months prior; but still on a level that required her to go and contemplate her life choices. _Am I an accomplice? Am I enabling him to do this? Am I a bad person for caring for someone who does bad things? Does that make me bad too? Am I just as guilty as he is? _

Myra settled on the use of a vintage Pacman arcade machine to settle her thoughts. She played for an hour or so before she heard someone enter the room. Bane approached her, standing next to her and observing her as she maneuvered the joystick to manipulate Pacman into eating digitized fruit on the screen. He looked into the glass to stare at her reflection, making eye contact with her against the backdrop of 'womp womp womp' sounds.

"Having fun?" Bane asked casually.

Myra didn't divert her attention immediately from the game, purely focused on her task at hand. She even had a bit of tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. The game transitioned into the phase in which Pacman was pursued by the ghosts, and she immediately was overcome and died. Myra sighed.

"I _was _having fun," she said quietly, very clearly insinuating she wasn't simply talking about the nature of the game.

Bane continued to eye her, her double-innuendo not missed on him.

"You know, you may leave at any time you wish. You aren't bound to me. To Gotham. I know you are aware of the events that happened earlier. While my words hold true to every other citizen here, if you truly wish to leave this city, I will make sure you are escorted out safely," Bane eased out, bringing a hand to gently cover hers over the joystick.

Myra looked down at his hand engulfing hers. Her initial reaction was to recoil, but she felt it hard to do so. Her shoulders even sagged slightly as if a tension that had been building up between her shoulders was suddenly released.

"And the bomb? You plan on blowing up Gotham?" she asked, finding the question ridiculous even as the words flew out of her mouth.

Bane squeezed her hand.

"You have nothing to worry about. I promised you nothing would happen to you, and I hold true to my word. Trust me," he said, as he moved to stand closer behind her.

_Damnit. Why….guh. It's hard to be mad at him. He knows what to say to me to make me just…'melt'. Submit. Give in. Roll over. _

Bane looked her over as she was very clearly processing her thoughts before diverting his attention to the wall of neatly stacked board games lining a huge shelf.

"Would you care to play a board game?" he asked curiously, hoping to lighten the mood and divert her thoughts away from impending doom.

Myra turned to look where his attention was diverted to, and then turned back to him before shrugging her shoulders non-committedly.

"Yeah I suppose," she replied in a bored tone.

Bane ignored her passiveness and seeming disinterest and sauntered over to the row of board games. His eyes immediately snapped onto one game in particular. He reached for it and snatched it out of the pile before Myra could object. He put it on the table right next to the shelf.

"Scraaaaaabblle? Nooo…." Myra pouted.

Bane smiled behind the mask, taking a seat in one of the chairs and stretching his arm out to the vacant chair across from him invitingly. Myra sighed once more before dragging her feet to sit across from him, slumping in her chair dramatically and clearly making a point about her stance on playing Scrabble with him.

Myra let Bane set the board up as she watched idly, twitching her thumbs together and looking around the room idly, even letting her eyes settle back on the shelf of board games. Her eyes did a double-take when she saw a dictionary propped up inside the book shelf that harbored mostly games. She got up from her spot, Bane eyeing her with suspicion as she walked past him to immediately snatch the dictionary off the shelf and went back to go plop herself back in her seat.

She looked up at him with a huge smile on her face, clutching the dictionary against her chest like she was holding the holy grail.

Bane just watched her amusedly as he finished setting up the game.

Myra had to admit that it was much more enjoyable this time around now that she had the added benefit of using the dictionary. True, she took twice as long as she normally did, and she received glares and looks of impatience from Bane that seemed twice as agitated, but she didn't care. They were even almost out of tiles indicating their game was almost over. She looked at the score, shocking herself to see that they were almost neck-to-neck. She looked over at how many tiles Bane had left. Three. She looked at how many she had left. Two. And it was his turn to go. If he was able to find a word that could use up all of his tiles, then he'd win. Myra looked up and gave him a threatening glare.

Bane returned her glare, pausing for several moments, before he let his fingers grab one of his tiles and place it on the board. He then went to snatch the second tile, teasingly, before he slowly placed it on the board too. Myra's eyes were pure daggers as she waited to see whether he was going to reach for and use his last tile.

Bane made a dramatic pause, even resting his hands in his lap for several moments before his hand reached up and his fingers plucked the last tile out of his tile rack and placed it on the board. Myra reacted quickly.

Myra launched herself onto the board, preventing him from placing the tile. She was _so close _to winning against him, her emotions overtook her at the prospect of him beating her by such a fine line. Tiles flew everywhere as her body slapped on top of the board. Bane's hand was still in mid-rise in the air as if he was still in the process of placing the tile. His eyes became instantly steely and angry at her outburst.

"Why did you do that?" he asked angrily.

Myra kept herself planted and prone over the table on top of the Scrabble board, though at this point the board was beyond being remedied and re-populated with the tiles. She gave him an annoyed look.

"Because you were about to win. _I should have won._ I almost _beat _you!" she said angrily.

Bane just stared at her, putting his hand down slowly as if he were holding himself back from an outburst. His eyebrows remained furrowed.

"So? You didn't win, and you weren't going to, because I clearly bested you," he said angrily.

Myra returned his steely stare, not caring about his logic.

Bane regarded her for several more moments before he slowly rose from the chair, making a noise as if his weight was a physical burden on his bones.

"I wasn't made aware that we had traversed into the realm of savages. In that case…" Bane said seriously, almost sadly, before reaching forward in an attempt to quickly snatch Myra off of the table. He was either going purposefully slow, or Myra's senses and reaction were heightened, for she cleanly slid off the table in reaction to his attempts to grab her. She maneuvered to hide under the table from him, lettered tiles trailing her like confetti as she transitioned to the floor on all fours.

She turned herself around, a grin plastered on her face to try and capture the direction of where Bane intended to make his next move. She barely had time to scope her surroundings before she felt a strong grip on her ankle that pulled her cleanly from under the table. A sound that was very clearly a combination of laughter and a scream erupted from her mouth.

Bane twisted her body around as he fully removed her from under the table, reaching down to bodily lift her up and fling her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He rested a hand on her butt, giving it an affectionate pat as he made his way to the pool table. Myra's giggle-scream fit ensued.

"If you intend on acting like a savage, you are going to be treated like one," Bane said as if he were a professor conducting a lecture. Myra had _no idea _what he could possibly insinuate by that. Her laughter ceased as she immediately began pondering the implications of his words, her brows furrowing in slight concentration.

When they reached the pool table, Bane removed her from his shoulders and pushed her face-first against the pool table, easing her down to bend at the waist and for her chest to rest flush against the green felted surface. Her curiosity, as well as a slight tingling forming between her legs, was piqued.

She put her hands palm-down against the pool table surface to leverage herself up to look back at him questioningly, but he immediately pushed her back down without explanation. Myra felt herself submitting willingly, turning her head to rest her cheek against the lush green felted surface. Her eyes wandered around as she heard movement and sounds behind her that was very clearly an indicator that Bane was unbuckling his belt and unzipping the front of his pants. _Well, this is new. If this is how savages act, sign me up. _

She waited patiently until she felt his hands grab hold of the side of her own pants and underwear, giving one aggressive tug down her legs to slide them off. She felt his hand grip her ankle one at a time and snake it out of her pants for her, undoubtedly so that she could spread her legs wider without the impedance of the pants.

Myra let her hand roam against the soft felted surface of the pool table idly, almost in a show of boredom an impatience, knowing Bane must be watching her. Bane responded by reaching forward and forcing her legs apart aggressively, causing Myra to open her lips and a soft 'humph' to escape from her mouth. She closed her eyes, preferring to shut out her visual senses knowing there wasn't anything for her to look at anyway, and perhaps the removal of that key sense would heighten the rest of them. She was right.

She felt his hand snake around to her front to probe her gently, to test her readiness and arousal. She was definitely aroused, though it may have been difficult for Bane to have interpreted it based on her theatrical show of boredom and indifference. Bane didn't use his fingers to probe for very long, for Myra felt him press up against her as he positioned himself. He maneuvered his cock to her entrance, teasing her gently by probing just the tip of the head into her only to remove it quickly, repeating the process several times. Bane could see her hands scratch against the green felted surface of the pool table in annoyance and impatience. He grinned before he eventually grabbed hold of her hips with both of his hands and drove his own hips forward with unbridled strength.

Myra let out a gasp as she felt the length of him stretch her opening and drive up inside of her, the new angle in which he entered her from behind causing the ribbed hood of his penis to rub and stimulate her inner flesh in the best possible way. She grasped at the green felt with her fingers, no longer in annoyance, but in an inexplainable sensory overload as she felt her insides being thoroughly filled up by Bane.

Since she was denied her sense of sight, unable to look or focus on him, it seemed that all of her energy and awareness was funneled into her sense of touch. And he was definitely touching her. That was all she could think and feel as she felt the length of him stretched her wider to allow him to access and penetrate her in the most intimate of ways.

Bane was pushing and reaching new limits inside of her due to the slight frenzy in which he now seemed to be employing his thrusts, as well as the advantaged position of him thrusting into her from behind with little to no impedance. She didn't know this level of stimulation was even possible. As her chest was pressed and squished into the table, air forcibly escaped her lips each time he thrust into her causing her to release a soft 'Hnph" through her lips.

She turned, straining her neck to peak over her shoulder at him. The look on his face was one of pure unwavering concentration with one brow deeply furrowed into the rigid hardware of his mask as his half-lidded eyes bore into her back, as if one slight misstep on his part would result in cataclysmic doom for humanity. She loved it. She couldn't maintain that position, however, the strain on her neck too great so she moved to resettle her cheek back on the green felted table top reluctantly. She wished she could capture the imagery of him with photographic-like detail due to the feelings that inhabited her core as she peaked at him thrusting into her from behind with pure unwavering focus and determination.

She felt as if Bane could sense her starting to orgasm and release sooner than she did, for the pace in which he was using immediately began to become more frenzied and expedited, possibly due to him sensing an easing of her muscles around his cock and a release of an additional level of arousal that also coated him, making it easier to perform his task he deemed fit for savages. This, of course, only expedited Myra's orgasm, and she came almost as soon as she felt it build up.

Her legs buckled under her from the overwhelming sensation, unable to hold herself up even as most of her weight was pushed up against the pool table. Bane immediately responded by reinforcing his hold on the side of her hips to leverage her up, now using his hold to pull her back into him as he thrust in to her, bringing him even further into the deepest reaches of her body with reckless abandon. Myra felt her feet leaving the floor on several instances as he brought her hips up and back to meet his.

She knew as soon as he came. It was hard to miss; the feeling of a small explosion as the very distinct feeling of his cum being funneled up into her. His penis throbbed and pulsated inside of her for several moments as the last remnants of his own orgasm was spent into her. He bobbed himself in and out several times slowly, seemingly relishing and enjoying the feel of her and knowing his time was almost at an end. He waited for several moments more before he pulled himself out of her with extreme care and mild reluctance.

When Bane released the hold on her hips, she let her knees buckle so she could fall onto the floor properly. She let out a huge sigh from her mouth, her eyes still closed as she rested her cheek against the leg of the pool table, one hand still clutched to the edge of it to keep her body upright. Her eyes had been closed during the whole ordeal, and they slowly opened when she heard Bane zipping the front of his cargo pants.

He looked down at her on the floor with mild amusement, his breathing still obviously strained from the exertion he just put his body through, but that didn't stop him from making a point in mild jest.

"Well? I hope that makes you reconsider acting on your savage tendencies the next time we play a board game," Bane teased.

The look that had inhabited Myra's face slowly transitioned into something else entirely; she was clearly going to be reconsidering her actions in the future, but for all the wrong reasons. She even let a playful smirk to tug at the corner of her lips as she tightened her grip on the edge of the pool table to pull herself up. As she was pulling herself up, her legs buckled again beneath her in an apparent orgasmic aftershock. She fell back down onto the ground with a thump on her behind, her legs very clearly non-compliant and numb. Her eyes transitioned into heated anger as she glared up at him as if he were the reason she was on the floor, which was highly debatable.

Bane let her seethe in anger for several moments, before he reluctantly reached down and grabbed her discarded pants and underwear. He moved to stand immediately next to her, reaching down and snatching her legs so he could snake her underwear and pants over her legs like he was dressing a toddler. Myra immediately began protesting and kicking at him, finding renewed enough energy to writhe on the floor and pull her own underwear and pants up without his assistance.

After she had pulled her clothing on, he picked her up off of the floor in a clear show of sympathy. Myra let her hand roam the side of his face leisurely as they made their way back upstairs, her eyes transfixed on his as she was still very much settled in a state of aftershock and bliss and notions of him holding Gotham under martial law forgotten.

* * *

Myra and Bane were utilizing the use of the indoor home movie theater, watching an old and obscure French movie that Bane had insisted on when he saw it in the collection of movies John Daggett had owned. Myra was mildly bored with the movie, but she enjoyed sitting next to him in the leather recliner with his arm rested lazily on the armrest that connected their chairs so that she could hold his hand idly.

Someone entered the home theater room behind them, and Bane waited to divert his attention from the movie to the individual that entered until they stood directly in front of him.

"Sir, Talia is here to see you," Barsad said as he looked down at Bane in the darkened room, a failed attempt at masking a moderate level of annoyance from his tone.

Bane returned Barsad's gaze steadily before he disengaged his hand from Myra's and he slowly rose himself up from the comfort of the leather recliner. Myra watched as Bane exited the room without another word.

Myra let her attention fall to Barsad, who still stood in the same spot as he watched Bane exit, the look of annoyance still on his face.

"What's bothering you?" Myra asked curiously.

Barsad just furrowed his brows in concentration before slowly turning to look at Myra.

"Nothing," he said simply.

Myra glowered at him, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Is it this Talia person that I've never seen or met but hear about occasionally? Why does Bane even follow her?" Myra said snidely.

"That's a good question," Barsad said brazenly, seemingly surprising himself with his retort based on the sudden uplift and shock on his face. He quickly looked at Myra as if he had divulged a deep, dark secret.

Myra just returned her gaze at him curiously.

"He….has followed her since they were both in prison together. He saved her…from death inside the prison. She eventually got out."

Myra couldn't help herself from thinking of an older woman who looked worse-for-wear, who was rough around the edges and must have done something sinister to end up inside a prison.

"When she got out, she made her way to her father, who was a leader of a…. group. When he died, she took over. Bane is a member – _I'm _a member - of that group, so therefore we follow her," Barsad continued.

Myra was surprised as the amount of information that Barsad seemed to be divulging freely to her. She listened thoughtfully.

Myra got the distinct impression that Barsad didn't necessarily agree with Talia's managerial style or leadership direction.

* * *

Myra was making use of the large indoor pool, sitting on the tiled edge so that she could dip her feet and legs into the cool water. She turned her head when she heard the door open behind her.

Bane strolled in shirtless in a pair of black swim trunks, a towel slung over his shoulder. Myra's eyebrows shot up her forehead at the casual spectacle, wondering where he even got the swim trunks. He ambled up to stand next to her, taking in the water before looking down at her seated position.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked politely.

Myra leaned her head back to look up at him, giving him a look that clearly indicated she knew he very well could do whatever the hell he wanted. She wasn't one to ignore politeness, however.

"Yes, you may," she replied curtly.

Bane flung his towel onto the ground, turning his body to face the water before jumping in without further ado, curling his body into a cannonball to cause maximum splash. Myra was not a fan. She brought her hand up to shield her face from the water rained down on her. When he surfaced the water, she gave him a glare. He returned her gaze, crinkles evident at the corner of his eyes indicating he thought what he just did was incredibly amusing.

He waded up in front of her, curling his hands around her calves for support as he stood up in the water in front of her, the water just reaching his chest. He eased himself forward between her legs, gliding his hands up over her knees and to her thigh.

"Why aren't you in the water?" he asked curiously.

Myra eyed him. "It's too cold," she said hesitantly, readying herself to pull her feet and body out of the water if she felt any indicator that he meant to pull her in abruptly.

Bane maintained her gaze, letting his hands slide up from her thighs to gently grab hold of each of her hands, gingerly curling his fingertips against her palms as he outstretched her arms on either side of her as he slowly started easing himself back away from her, maintaining physical contact with her hands.

"Come. I'll keep you warm," he said knowingly, as he attempted to tenderly coax her from her seated position on the side of the pool.

Myra wasn't entirely convinced of the truth behind his statement, but she did feel the heat that radiated off of him just from his fingertips into her palms. She looked at him with a sassy slant of her shoulder, easing out a massive sigh as if she were being terribly inconvenienced. He eased himself forward again closer to her, circling one hand behind her waist to coax her body into his while is other hand intertwined into hers.

She felt herself being pulled from her seat and into the water directly into Bane's body, her legs being coaxed around his middle and her chest pressed firmly against his. She had to arch her neck back to prevent her face from smashing into his as she observed him skeptically, feeling a cold rush of water consume her lower body. The heat that radiated off of him, however, made that cold rush seem inconsequential.

She removed her hand from his so that she could wrap both of her arms around his neck, leaning her head forward to rest her chin on his shoulder contently. Bane immediately started wading through the water with the extra passenger in his arms, keeping one hand pressed firmly against her bottom to hold her up against him, which Myra felt him periodically squeeze, his other arm being used as a massive paddle to propel him around the pool.

They waded around the pool like that for several minutes, Myra convinced by Bane's words that yes, he would indeed keep her warm. Almost _too _warm. She eased her head back away from his shoulder to peer up at him as he continued his aimless wanderings around the pool. She brought both of her hands up to capture his face between her palms, easing his head down to hers so that she could plant a loud kiss against the exposed skin below his eye and above his cheek. She repeated this act again, moving her kiss just a millimeter or so over from the first one. The only indicator that Myra knew that Bane enjoyed her affections was that he had allowed her to guide his head down towards hers, as well as a visible softening around his eyes. He continued to maintain his focus on the water in front of him, however, as if a monster would emerge from below at a moment's notice, requiring his full attention.

Myra's kisses got louder and more obnoxious, the skin under his cheek sometimes forcibly getting pushed up into his eye, forcing it closed. That didn't deter him from his trajectory around the pool, however, seemingly quite capable of navigating the water with just one eye.

Myra leaned back to look at him, running her hands over the top of his head against the smooth exposed baldness that wasn't covered by the mask hardware. Bane finally turned his eyes to look at her, his eyes softening even more as he searched her face.

Myra heard the door open to the indoor pool room behind her. She saw Bane's eyes move from hers to divert to the individual who entered, maintaining his hold on her and also not ceasing his idle trolling around the water as he did so.

Myra turned to look to see who it was. Barsad returned her gaze when he saw her head swing around to look at him. She gave him a deadpan look to make sure he understood he was ruining a 'moment' she and Bane were having. Her hands fell from Bane's face, feeling immediately bashful of the affections she was giving Bane now that there was an audience. Barsad looked like he could care less. He simply stood there and looked at Bane expectantly.

Bane finally released a sigh through his mask, moving towards the edge of the pool and releasing his hold on Myra. Myra gasped as she was dropped into the water fully, immediately overcome by how cold the water actually was. She felt her lungs constrict, disabling her from vocalizing her discomfort. She just bobbed in the water, rigid, frozen and uncomfortable.

Bane used his strength to pull himself out of the pool at the edge. Myra tried following him, hopping up and down in the water, her toes barely able to touch the bottom of the pool without having to fully submerge herself. She tried getting Bane's attention but could only feel her teeth chattering.

Bane turned to look at her, amusement overtaking his face as he saw her physical state. He took her in for several seconds before bending down and grabbing her by her upper arm to bodily haul her out of the water like a wet cat.

Once Myra felt her feet make contact with the ground, she immediately beelined towards the towels that had been thrown into the corner as Bane followed Barsad out of the indoor pool room, clearly not caring that he was soaking wet and leaving a trail of water as he exited.

Myra wrapped herself like a mummy with all available towels before going to a reclining chair at the edge of the pool, taking a seat in it and leaning back, closing her eyes with a huff and a soft smile forming on her lips.

* * *

Myra was seated at the desk in the large master suite with her legs crossed, reading a book, when she felt an additional presence in the room. She immediately looked up from her book and saw a woman with deep brown curly hair, exotic eyes, and lips slightly upturned as she stood gazing at Myra. Myra's eyebrows shot up.

"Can…I help you?" Myra asked, confused and surprised.

The woman sauntered in, her body swaying sensually from one side to the other as she approached Myra. The look she was giving Myra, despite there being a mask of humor, did not make Myra feel well; if anything, it gave her chills. She felt as if the woman was approaching her to wish her ill-intent. Myra got up from her seat and stood on the opposite side of it to use it as a barrier between her and the woman, if need be.

"Who are you? You aren't supposed to be here. _Get out,_" Myra said boldly, though her voice wavered, and she didn't feel quite as confident as the woman walking toward her seemed to be.

"I just came to take a look at Bane's pet; I heard he was keeping one caged up here somewhere," the woman said, amusement thick in her voice. She had a slightly foreign accent.

Myra instinctively looked around the room, mild excitement building in her chest at the idea that Bane had brought a cat or a dog up here without her knowledge. She immediately felt foolish, however, understanding what the women insinuated. Myra narrowed her eyes at being referred to as a 'pet' and being 'caged up'.

The woman gave Myra a thorough look-over, her eyes roaming from her bare feet all the way up to her head, before repeating the process. The look the woman gave indicated she was disappointed, expecting something more exotic or interesting than what she was seeing in Myra.

Myra looked down at herself. She was dressed in a pair of worn-out baggy sweatpants, a loose t-shirt with a stain on the front from spilling juice on herself that morning, wore no socks, allowing for stubble to be exposed which was visibly populated around her exposed calf and ankle - a clear indicator she hadn't shaved in a while - her somewhat greasy unwashed hair was in an extremely loose and messy lopsided bun that balanced precariously on the top of her noggin, and it was safe to say that she wore no make-up. She even had a slight red blemish erupting on her chin from either her skin being too oily, or not applying enough moisturizer. Considering she was applying no moisturizer, as well as making no attempt at cleaning her face of excess oils, it was a toss-up on which scenario was the culprit. Myra had not felt self-conscious about any of these attributes, until now. She was a stark contrast to the polished woman in front of her, who practically glowed with a coat of glossy red lip gloss that finished her look.

Despite this, the woman kept approaching her. Myra maneuvered herself fully around the chair to use it as a shield against the intruding woman, but the woman simply reached out casually and grabbed a strand of Myra's ashy blonde hair, fondling it between her two fingers. The smile she gave Myra was extremely unpleasant. Myra frowned.

Before Myra could properly react, she heard loud footsteps approaching the entrance to her room. She turned her attention away from the woman to see Bane standing in the doorway, irritation clearly written on his face as he bore a stare into the back of the head of the woman that maintained her attention on Myra almost as if she didn't even hear or need to acknowledge that Bane entered. She already seemed to know who it was.

Bane let his eyes analyze the situation, seeing Myra cornered with a genuine look of fear on her face.

"Talia, I told you to meet me down stairs," Bane said, clearly irritated.

Myra let her eyes refocus on the woman in front of her. _This is Talia? I thought she was….old. Not a beautiful vixen._ Myra's insecurities started flaring up. She knew Bane followed her devotedly, and now she started questioning _why _he followed her.

Talia deepened her smile at being caught being disobedient, almost like it was a game with Bane. Myra continued to stare, taking it all in. _She's not even scared. She does what she wants. _She gave Myra's hair one last stroke before dropping it, giving Myra one final suggestive look-over before turning her attention back to Bane.

"I just wanted to take a look at the pet living in the master suite. I hope she's keeping your… feet warm enough at night," she mused, but turned to look at Bane indicating she had hoped that he had more self-respect than what it appeared he currently had considering the company he kept in his room. The look she maintained on Bane looked almost as if she were in on a joke. And Myra was the joke.

Bane turned his attention to Myra after Talia said this, clearly waiting to see what her reaction would be to Talia's eloquent insults. What he saw wasn't exactly encouraging; Myra continued to look extremely uncomfortable as if she were transported into a foreign land, unable to speak or communicate the local dialect. Myra felt as if she had been inhabiting the plane of gods and goddesses and was suddenly found out. Being a mere mortal, she definitely didn't belong here.

Talia reluctantly started walking towards Bane before exiting through the door to make her way downstairs, but not before she let one of her hands glide across Bane's chest suggestively, intimately. Bane watched Talia exit fully, ignoring her affections, before he turned his head to look at Myra. Myra was frozen in the corner, her hands held up against her chest and her eyes were large. Disturbed.

Myra had felt a pang of unexpected jealously – _possessiveness –_ flare up when she saw Talia glide her hand across Bane's chest in such an intimate and knowing way. She almost wanted to shout out at her and tell her to stop. She couldn't get the words out; Talia had seemed _so comfortable_, so _intimate_ in the way she had interacted with Bane, it made Myra feel inadequate; like she was the one that should be told to 'back off'. _But she didn't tell me to 'back off', because I'm not even worth it. _Her feelings quickly deviated into something else; doubt. Questioning. Discomfort. Worthlessness. _Second-hand. The 'other woman'. _

Myra stood frozen, these thoughts swirling in her mind as her gaze slowly shifted to the corner of the room. _I don't know where he goes…he could be spending the time he doesn't spend with me, with 'her'. That would make sense. He's gone for days sometimes…he never tells me where he goes. If he's sleeping with her too…ew….There goes that 'exclusive membership'…. _She stared at nothing while these thoughts festered in her mind. Bane turned to look at Myra, seeing that she was in deep reverie over what she saw. The pain and discomfort she was feeling were obvious over her features. Bane sighed before he closed the door behind him, leaving her in the room alone while he attended to business with Talia.

* * *

_**Author: Oh boy, I don't know if I can express how much I *really* dislike Talia. She's the WORST. Absolute worst. Also, review! **_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

_**Author: You guys, I really have to say; I love this unified hatred for Talia in the review comments. It really brings me a lot of happiness and joy, like we are unified as 'one'. It's pretty amazing. I'm pretty sure that's the message and feeling John Lennon was trying to convey when he wrote the song "Imagine". **_

_**I also want to thank crzychigurl343, Jettsetter17, Siennax3, shalmarrose, and AllLiesEnd for reviewing (and 'Guest' reviewer; you rock too. I wish I knew who you were **__** ) Your reviews are incredibly appreciated and help motivate me to keep writing this story! Please don't stop! **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

After Myra heard the door click upon Bane and Talia's exit, she turned around to stare at the wall on the other side of the room. She stood that way for several minutes as the events that unfolded in front of her replayed in her head. The safety, comfort, and assurance she had felt up to that moment had been severely compromised and it made her nauseous. She wanted to vomit. It made her question herself, her actions, her life choices. The feeling of 'home' slowly crumbling around her. She got the very real impression of being an imposter, deemed inadequate. She felt herself spiraling; she hadn't felt herself spiraling this way since… _Don't think about it. You're stronger than this. _

She decided to get up and go process somewhere else, not sure how long Bane was going to be gone, _with 'her'_. She didn't want to think about what it was he may be doing with Talia privately, and how long that would take. She wasn't sure she wanted to look at him in her present state of mind either. She wasn't even sure she wanted to look at him after she eventually leveled out. Especially after she now ultimately felt like she was a figurative 'side dish'; _an afterthought_. A bright star suddenly finding itself definitely not alone in a vast night sky of bigger, brighter, more beautiful stars.

Myra put on a different set of clothes - feeling mildly motivated after the polished look that Talia had presented herself in - and exited the master suite. She didn't bother with putting shoes or socks on, preferring to walk around in silence on her bare feet. She finally made her way to the elevator, pushing the 'down' button and stepping back as she waited for the elevator doors to open.

Once she heard the 'bing' and the doors fling open, she stepped inside tentatively, turning around and pressing the basement level of the elevator where John Daggett had kept his armada of luxury vehicles. She went down approximately 20 levels before the doors to the elevator opened again. She peered out to see if anyone else was loitering the basement garage level before she stepped out and pattered onto the cement garage floor on her bare fleet past several luxury vehicles.

She didn't have any car keys with her, so the prospect of taking one of them and zooming out of here wasn't an option, despite Myra potentially very much wanting nothing more than to do just that. She went up to several cars, checking the doors for an unlocked vehicle, not finding one. However, after approaching a 5th vehicle, it unlatched and opened for her. She opened it wide and slid into the comfortable luxury leather seat. She closed the driver side door after snaking her bare feet into the car.

Myra didn't have any plan beyond just sitting and thinking in a quiet place where no one frequented or would potentially bother her. _Especially 'her'. _Due to the current nature and occupation of the city, zooming around in a luxury vehicle was also probably not the smartest move considering the vitriol directed towards the wealthy upper class and their extravagance, so she knew no one would come down with car keys and try and take one of the vehicles out of the garage. Meaning she had the garage to herself.

Her first thoughts while sitting alone in the car were simply about her choices. _Should I just get up and slip out of the building without a word? Would Bane care_? _Would he send someone after me? Would he come after me? Why would he even bother. That sounds like a waste of time on his part. He's so busy now anyway, he probably wouldn't notice for a few days. If at all. I might even be doing him a favor, so he doesn't have to deal with forcing me out on his own, especially if he found out I'm not receptive to his stance on relationships. Or….he would come after me. To kill me. I obviously know too much. I doubt very much I was supposed to get a good look at Talia. She would probably order him to go after me, just to kill me. _

She then thought about what would happen if she just sucked it up and stayed. _Nothing. Nothing would happen. Except my feeling of worth would be completely shattered. That's not a big deal…right? Am I 'okay' with sharing him? Talia clearly seemed okay with it. She even thought it was amusing, as if Bane was trying out a bold-patterned jacket just briefly to see how he'd like it instead of his usual monochromatic choices. _

She sat there for what must have been hours before she finally heard the elevator 'ding' indicating someone else entered the parking garage level. She didn't turn to look who it was, keeping her head down to stare at the steering wheel as she sensed a shadow consume her through the driver's side window.

She heard a hand loudly slap on the roof of the vehicle as her driver side door slowly opened.

"Going for a joy ride?" Bane asked with strained humor as he bent down to peer at her inside the low-riding vehicle. Myra could tell he was actively holding back a moderate level of annoyance directed towards her, possibly due to a lengthy search he had to conduct in order to find her within the penthouse building. Possibly even systematically going through each floor into each room in an attempt to locate her.

Myra didn't respond but just kept her attention focused on the steering wheel. When Bane sensed she had no intention of acknowledging, speaking, or replying to him, he straightened his back to stand as he looked around the garage briefly before peering back down at her.

"Get out of the vehicle," he ordered firmly, irritation slowly seeping into his words as impatience rose in his chest.

Myra pursed her lips, bringing her hands up to grip the steering wheel as if she meant to use it to anchor herself inside the car.

"No," she responded brazenly, twisting the leather steering wheel in her hands, causing the leather to screech from the strain.

Bane rested a hand on top of the roof of the car as he bent down to peer back inside the vehicle, his mask inches from her face.

"I won't repeat myself," he said sternly, almost in a whisper, anger now rising in his chest.

Myra made an effort to ignore him as he peered at her.

"Then don't," she replied sassily, matching his anger as her grip tightened further around the steering wheel.

Without another word, Bane reached in and grabbed her by the arm to bodily remove her from the car. She held onto the steering wheel with all of her strength, and even managed to maintain her seat due to her own vice-like grip, though she knew Bane was holding back his strength to some degree so that he didn't injure her severely while she maintained her hold on the steering wheel for dear life.

Bane straightened himself again to look down at her after releasing his hold on her arm, anger and frustration in his eyes as he took her in. He brought a hand up to rub his eyes with pinched fingers, pausing several moments before he reached back into the car and grabbed the steering wheel, planting his feet firmly on the cement ground before giving one aggressive tug to yank it clean off the steering wheel column.

Myra had maintained her hold on the steering wheel, her eyes large as she saw him rip it off the steering wheel column in front of her. _How…?_ Before she had time to react, he reached back down and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her out of the car with one swift motion. Without the steering wheel to anchor her down, there was no impedance in his action. She continued to maintain her hold on the steering wheel uselessly, however. She dropped it to the ground once Bane had fully pulled her from the vehicle.

He dragged her to the elevator without saying another word, the grip around her upper arm none-too-gentle as he pressed the 'up' button. They waited awkwardly, tension as thick as fog between them as they chose not to speak to each other as the elevator made its way back down to 'ding' and open up for them to allow them to enter.

Bane shoved her in first, not releasing the hold he had on her arm as he pressed the top floor of the building. Myra itched her other arm idly with her free hand, trying to appear disinterested and bored with the situation.

They stopped unexpectedly halfway up at a level midway to their destination. The doors opened to reveal several of Bane's men who had apparently also wanted to use the elevator to make it to a higher-level floor. They gave one look at Bane, and then Myra, and then back to Bane before they took a step back, clearly indicating they would be more comfortable taking the next elevator. Their decision may also have been motivated by a murderous glare from Bane and the unpleasant looking hold he maintained on Myra's arm.

When they finally made it to the top level, Bane escorted her back to their room, closing and locking the door behind him with an ominous 'click', finally releasing his hold on her with a shove that propelled her several steps away from him. Myra turned around and eyed him, sensing some sort of confrontation about to happen, taking several large steps to further back away as she rubbed the sore spot where he had held her arm.

When Bane finally turned to look at her with heat and anger very clearly shown in his eyes, she returned his gaze with equal fire and emotion.

And like a switch that was turned on, she started crying.

Bane was so startled and shocked at the sudden shift in mood displayed by Myra, he stood rigid and still for several moments, not quite sure how to respond; he was very clearly mentally prepared for either a verbal or even a physical confrontation. Not this.

Myra moved to cover her face with her hands, turning her body away from him to grieve without some semblance of shame, knowing someone was looking at her – _judging her - _as she cried.

Keeping her face covered, she walked a straight line toward a corner of the room with the intent of making herself small, unnoticeable – _the way she felt_ \- so she could huddle into it without feeling like she was being watched and scrutinized.

She didn't make it to the corner, however, for she felt herself collide into a solid mass that didn't feel like the surface of a wall. Two hands moved up to steer and hold her shoulders. She immediately tensed, her body going rigid. Bane sensed the shift in her body as soon as she tensed her muscles.

Bane released a huge sigh, guiding her to the edge of the bed where he eased her down slowly to sit. He knelt in front of her, maintaining his hold on her upper arms. He waited patiently for her sobs to dissipate and for the slow removal of her hands over her eyes before he spoke. She kept her red puffy eyes averted to the floor, bringing a hand up to swipe across her cheeks and her nose to clean up the sloppy emotional mess with the back of her bare hand.

"Tell me what is troubling your mind," Bane eased out gently, reaching a hand up to the side of her face to remove a wet salty strand of her hair that had plastered itself over her eye. He pushed the strand of hair back and settled it behind her ear delicately.

Myra kept her eyes angled down, not immediately responding to him. _Everything. Everything is troubling my mind. _She finally worked herself up enough to issue a reply.

"I want to leave. You told me all I had to do was ask and that you would let me leave," she stated with her eyes slowly lifting to fixate on nothing in particular in the corner of the room. She brought a hand up to rub the side of her arm awkwardly, feeling like she was in an incredibly uncomfortable and awkward situation. She did not have the mental fortitude to fight the situation. _Especially not against someone like…her. I'm not even going to try. That's a losing battle. I should just surrender and leave. _

She swallowed when her words were finally out of her mouth. She didn't want to see what Bane's expression was, for she didn't feel like it was anything good based on the stillness of his body and the loud amplified sound of his breathing through his mask. She suddenly became very aware of her heart pounding against her chest, almost painfully.

Bane was no fool. He knew Myra's anguish had something to do with a visit from Talia. While he didn't know what may have transpired during the entire visit, he could only imagine what kind of scenarios and assumptions Myra made after the interaction she saw with both the insinuations and insults Talia made about Myra, as well as Talia's physical interactions with himself on full display for her to see.

While Myra may have interpreted what she saw based on 'assumptions', that was what they were; assumptions. Myra had no idea what kind of relationship Bane and Talia shared; that was between Bane and Talia. Bane knew what he had to do and decided to deviate Myra's focus on leaving into properly educating her on the situation before she further spun out of control.

He watched several more moments as tears streaked her cheeks before he brought a hand up to cup her chin and angled it so that she was forced to look at him. Myra inhaled deeply to capture moisture that had gathered in her nose, threatening to drip down to her lip. Her eyes hesitantly lifted to look into his.

"Tell me what seems to be so obviously troubling your mind. After you tell me – _and you had better tell me truthfully, for I will know - _then I will make sure you are escorted safely out of Gotham, where you may choose to live out your days without ever having to look at or think about me again. Deal?" Bane offered, angling his face to make sure she maintained focus on him, her eyes having a tendency to stray.

Myra looked at him with glazed eyes before slowly nodding. She let out a huge anguished sigh, before delving into her troubles reluctantly.

"Am I…" _The other woman. The pet. The distraction. _Myra's eyes narrowed as she swallowed, trying to decide the best choice of words to describe what it was she wanted to convey. She didn't think the word existed in any known language. She turned her head away without finishing the sentence.

Bane rose one eyebrow at her questioningly, leaning forward in an attempt to ease the rest of her words out of her mouth, forcing her head back to look at him with the hand he had holding her chin.

"Are you….what?" he asked. He massaged her chin gently with his thumb before coaxing her head to look at him again as her eyes began to wander. Myra did not look comfortable.

"Am I…. …" Myra swallowed. _The mistress. The whore. The plaything. _

"Go on," Bane encouraged. Myra decided she wasn't going to be able to finish her sentence, so instead decided to change the topic slightly.

"How long have you and Talia….." she eased out, though she started having trouble finishing her sentence too. _Been together. Been lovers. Been intimate. _

"….been in love," Myra almost choked out.

Bane looked at Myra thoughtfully before replying truthfully.

"I have loved her for many years," he replied simply, matter-of-factly.

Myra turned her head away sharply. _He's never told me he's loved me…What am I doing here? What have I allowed myself to become? Someone's beck-and-call girl. I'm no better than a prostitute… except they get paid. I deserved the looks she gave me. I'm not threat to her. I'm a joke. _

Myra had felt heartache before, but this was new. It was an awkward feeling. She wasn't even sure if her situation warranted being labeled as betrayal; perhaps Bane simply fully embraced a communal and polyamorous style of living and forgot to mention it to her. They never discussed whether they were 'exclusive'; Myra just…made assumptions. She started to think about what other aspects of his life he was withholding from her.

Myra rose from her seat quickly, forcing Bane's hand away from her chin. Bane moved his hands to hold onto both of her wrists in each of his hands when she stood up, holding her still forcefully.

"What are you doing?" Bane asked with a hint of anger and concern, noting that she looked as if she was at her threshold of tolerance and couldn't go on. She just very clearly wanted to _leave_.

Myra turned her attention back to the uninteresting corner of the room. Bane looked up and saw the discomfort and pain radiating off of her. He decided to expedite the process. He could clearly see she was not particularly enjoying this experience and was very obviously suffering, potentially even debating jumping out the window based on the way her eyes were flickering towards the paned glass window across the room.

"Are you assuming that Talia and I are lovers?" Bane tried to ask without amusement dripping through his lips.

Myra's eyes started to water again.

Bane knew he shouldn't smile, but he did anyway. And he also thought her assumptions were endearing, even if Myra clearly didn't think so.

"We are not lovers, nor have we ever been. I saved her as a child in prison from an unfortunate fate. We have suffered very similar tribulations in life, which helped spawn the affection and love I feel for her," he said, using his hand to coax Myra back down into a seated position on the bed. He noticed she seemed significantly more compliant after his explanation.

"You were never…intimate?" Myra asked shyly.

Bane pondered. "Well, there was this one instance.."

The look that consumed and distorted Myra's face caused him to backpedal immediately.

"No, we weren't. Due to the nature of our work, its best to maintain a working relationship which can only be achieved without…certain distractions," he confessed, incorporating just a small white lie.

Myra eyed him, knowing he was trying to cover up what he said just to ease her anxiety. The fact that he cared enough to even do that made her feel more at ease, so she relaxed her body.

"I also aided in her escape from the prison. That decision had resulted in some…physical sacrifices on my part," Bane eased out, a deep wheeze emitting from his mask suggestively. He reverted into the realm of hesitancy as if he weren't sure how much he cared to divulge with her.

Myra's eyes shot down to fixate on his mask. She never fully understood what transpired that led to the need of it; he was so strong, so competent, that it boggled her mind that he would have been in any confrontation that resulted in being injured so severely that it would ultimately require it. She knew his mask helped ease the pain from his facial injuries as well as the botched spinal surgery at his back, as evident by the irregular ugly scar running from the base of his neck down his spine. Now she knew. Her 'dislike' for Talia slowly transitioned into hatred at the notion of Bane succumbing to life-altering, permanent injuries on Talia's behalf while Talia gets to strut around like a vixen; unblemished, unmarred from prison life. Despite her newfound hatred for Talia, Myra's eyes softened considerably at this selfless gesture and confession from Bane.

"She also favors the utilization of some of her…female assets when performing certain missions and duties, to gain trust and infiltrate. That knowledge doesn't harbor and encourage a relationship beyond the deep personal affection we share and our working relationship," Bane eased out almost reluctantly, almost as if he were sharing too much information but he knew that this added bit of information about Talia's 'sexual life' would lead Myra into her own conclusions about the type of person Talia was, as well as the type of partner he sought; an exclusive one.

Myra's relaxed further as she felt herself slumping into the bed, feeling as if a huge weight had suddenly been released from her shoulders. She suddenly felt it considerably easier to breath as she inhaled a large breath. _Oh. So 'SHE'S' the whore. Got it. How dare she judge 'ME', making me feel like I'm the slut. _

Myra wiped her face once more with her bare hand before she turned back to him, clearly other concerns still plaguing her mind. Myra started working her lips together as if trying to figure out the words she wanted to say.

"Am I…pretty?" Myra finally asked hesitantly, shyly, feeling emboldened now that the heartache and pain she had been feeling earlier had ebbed considerably, making her feel lightheaded.

Bane's eyebrows shot up his forehead. He stared at her for several seconds, somewhat confused and surprised by her question before he let his eyebrows drop. Clearly Talia had instilled something into her to make her feel inadequate. Inferior. Ugly. That angered him.

He reached forward and stroked the scar exposed on her forehead from her childhood to the small scar on the side of her jawline she endured from the hostage exchange. He let his thumb graze over her skin delicately as if she were made of porcelain. Her eyes were downcast in thought and in bashfulness, though she let her eyes fleetingly gaze up at his for several moments before dropping them again. Her self-confidence had clearly been shot.

"You aren't 'pretty'; you're beautiful. Why would you ask such a silly question?" Bane implored, rubbing his thumb lightly against the flesh on her chin.

She didn't respond, not seemingly convinced by his words nor was she willing to verbalize the reasons for her even asking the question. Bane knew she must be comparing herself to Talia.

Bane reached forward with his other hand to cup her head between both of his hands, deciding to give her a more genuine answer.

"You're like an amethyst; while you may, on occasion, be confronted with other minerals and stones that surpass your beauty from the exterior…." Bane felt Myra squirm significantly between his hands at being off-handedly insulted, Myra clearly holding the notion that he should think her beauty is insurmountable - _especially_ _to _'_her'. _He stabilized his hold of her head to settle her down and hold her still before he continued.

"…there are none who compare to you when it comes to what you possess on the inside and how you make me feel. Indescribable beauty that permeates your exterior that brings me unspeakable pleasure and happiness. Rivaled by _no one_." Bane emphasized his point by bringing one of his large fingers to poke her in the chest almost playfully, making attempts at reinvigorating one of his favorite attributes of Myra; her humor.

This seemed to pacify Myra considerably, though she wasn't sure how she felt about being compared to a 'rock'.

"….a rock," Myra mumbled out, though it was clear she wasn't truly displeased.

Bane got up after he saw Myra relax and ease considerably after several minutes of her pondering his words. He gave her one final look-over before he eased himself up from his kneeled position with an exerted grunt. Without another word, he immediately strode towards one of the closets and retrieved a large duffel bag. Without any explanation, he started opening dresser drawers that held her clothing and personal items and started cramming them into the bag. Myra eyed him curiously before rising up to stand next to him to see what he was doing.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously, seeing her things being crammed unceremoniously into a bag.

"I'm packing your things. You wanted to leave – we had a deal? I'm expediting your packing process," Bane said politely.

Myra's mouth formed into a disagreeable line with redness speckling her cheeks as she watched him continue with his task. She eventually shot her hand out to stop him from putting all of her things into the bag.

"No…I mean, I suppose I'll stay….." she said in an embarrassed mumble.

Myra's hold on his arm barely deterred him, and he purposefully ignored it.

"You what? Speak up, I couldn't hear you," Bane turned his head to her, taking one more handful of her clothes and cramming it into the bag.

Myra grimaced at him, tugging at his arm with the weight of her body.

"I _said _I SUPPOSE I'll stay," she said in a louder voice.

Bane turned to look at her again, his eyebrows raising up his forehead.

"You suppose? That seems non-committal. You may change your mind in a few hours. I'll just get this bag ready for you in the likely event you do change your mind," he said matter-of-factly as he continued down the line of dresser drawers, cramming any and all available items into the bag.

Myra stared daggers at him, reaching out and slapping his hands away from her things. She moved in front of him to block him access to the rest of her clothes when those actions didn't seem to deter him.

"I _WANT_ to stay. Stop packing my stuff!" she eyed him, giving him a deeper glare and shoving him away with her hands using the full weight of her body behind the push.

Bane ceased his packing, seemingly satisfied with her declaration. He dropped the duffel bag onto the floor next to the dresser with a thud and gave her a nod.

"Good. Now, next time you plan on making assumptions, I'd prefer it if you gave me ample warning. I'll make sure to have your bags ready and packed for you, and a car waiting," he said cheekily, before turning and exiting the room without further ado, leaving Myra looking shell-shocked, red-faced from embarrassment, and with the unpleasant task of unpacking her clothing and possessions back into the dresser.

The next day Myra discovered a giant, almost obnoxiously-sized amethyst stone placed as a center piece on a glass table that was positioned in front of one of the leather recliners in the corner of the master suite. It was split open to reveal the crystalized purple contents inside. She ambled up to it reluctantly, looking at the beautiful contents that were on full display. _Okay fine. I mean, a flower or even a bird would have been nice a nice comparison. But you made your point._

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 4 Months, 15 days

One thing that was removed from Myra's routine following her move to the penthouse and the subsequent Gotham hostage situation was she no longer was able to make supply runs, so there was a period of time where she had no job that required her to leave the penthouse. This was remedied quickly, however, when Bane reassigned her to do inventory on the supplies that they kept at various checkpoints and storage locations within the city. She was also escorted periodically outside of the city limits through an underground tunnel system that very clearly had been recently made with explosives. She checked one large warehouse that was just outside city limits where this underground tunnel system led out to, which also had a helicopter pad with a helicopter stationed on it in the rare occasion that they needed to go pick up a unique part or resource they didn't already have. She was assigned to this task because he knew she already had intimate knowledge of the supplies that they had picked up considering she was the one who had helped bring in most of the items. It was also a job that still kept her busy without directly involving her in any sort of dangerous or morally compromising situations, supposedly.

Due to the quick shift of the overall environment of the city turning hostile, as well as an influx of Bane's men that were funneled into the city at the last minute before most means of travel into and out of Gotham were removed, Bane assigned Barsad to go with Myra when she made these inventory check runs. She usually did them every other day at various locations of storage. She never saw the same individuals, which surprised her because it made her aware of just how many people were following and supporting Bane.

Unfortunately, due to the nature of the takeover of the city and the boldness of some of these men knowing that they had an upper hand on everyone around them, it fostered a moderate level of aggression and boldness that Myra wasn't comfortable with. Particularly if it meant she would receive undesired advances while she was doing her job. It happened so frequently that she would be simply checking and counting the supplies and one of the men garbed in militaristic clothing would amble up to her, check her out, and say something crude or suggestive. She almost never had a response, and never needed to give one because Barsad was always just over her shoulder looking right at the fool with a look of genuine sympathy before he would dramatically shake his head from left to right as if saying_, "Dude, you do not want to go there."_

Myra would just stare as the man would slowly amble back away, surprisingly getting the hint perhaps because he knew who Barsad was and the implications of his gesture. She would then return to counting the inventory again, thankful that there were no physical confrontations during these situations.

During one of these situations, however, Myra was to count large cartridges of ammo stacked in at least a dozen wood pallets. When she made it to the location, a sweaty looking man ambled up to her with an air of irritation.

"Who are you?" he barked at Myra, ignoring Barsad at her shoulder.

Myra hadn't ever been asked 'who she was' at that point, the individuals that surrounded the resources always compliant with her counting and checking the inventory. His question caught her off guard. She never had to justify 'who she was'.

'I'm Bane's…" _His what? Inventory-checker? 'Girlfriend' (that seems weird), 'lover'? (that sounds like it's extracted from a heated Spanish romance novel and doesn't quite fit our relationship…none of that should matter. I'm just here to count things. _

"I'm Bane's," Myra repeated again with confidence, finding that answer more than proficient to describe everything and all that she was regarding this situation as well as possibly the personal relationship she shared with Bane.

The man eyed her up and down, a droplet of sweat easing down the side of his temple. He was looking at her as if determining if she were capable of pulling out a weapon at a moment's notice. She of course wasn't; she simply ignored his demeanor and immediately got to work with the inventory check.

She had to do a double count because her numbers weren't quite matching up to what she had recorded in her inventory list. She also noticed that she was being watched intently, scrutinized even; so she straightened herself up and gave the sweaty man a huge smile before she sauntered away with Barsad.

"Something is off. There's ammo missing when there shouldn't be," she mumbled to Barsad as they left.

Barsad gave her a critical look before looking over his shoulder at the man staring at their backs before turning back to her.

"We need to tell Bane," he said simply

Myra let out a frustrated sigh. That was not what she wanted to do. Telling Bane would undoubtedly create a moderate level of confrontation that Myra was never comfortable with, particularly if she knew she had to watch.

They eventually made it back to the penthouse where Barsad immediately beelined to Bane to inform him of Myra's findings. Myra idled disinterestedly, hoping she wouldn't get looped into the inevitable confrontation. She wasn't so lucky, however, as Bane turned and marched up to her, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I hear there was a discrepancy in an inventory count?" he asked with slight irritation.

Myra let her eyes wander around, shuffling her feet slightly before turning to look at him, feeling mildly uncomfortable. She knew her answer was affecting someone else's wellbeing, perhaps even their life. She wasn't entirely ecstatic about that concept. She had to be absolutely sure that her numbers weren't off.

She was absolutely sure, however, with no doubt that there were missing ammo cartridges. She had checked her numbers and the contents multiple times. The last thing she needed on her conscience was knowing that a careless mistake on her part led to someone's accidental death.

"Yessss…." she eased out.

"Are you sure?" Bane questioned with slight condescension.

Myra furrowed her brows and snapped her eyes on him, feeling like she was being mildly insulted at the insinuation that there was the possibility that she was incapable of doing her job properly.

"Absolutely sure," she said sternly, seriously. Her eyes didn't waver from his so that he understood she knew what it was she was implying and the weight and potential consequences of her answer.

Bane searched her eyes for a brief moment before nodding, turning to look at Barsad and giving him a nod too. He used his hand to summon up a handful of his more competent men to accompany him as he made his way towards the exit.

Myra wasn't quite sure if she was supposed to follow Bane too; she was almost hoping he would just let her stay behind so that she didn't have to see how the events unfolded. However, as soon as he was halfway across the room, he suddenly stopped in his tracks which of course resulted in everyone else stopping. He then turned his body and then his head towards her slowly and gave her a very pointed look without saying a word.

Myra sighed, letting her shoulders drop and her head loll backwards as she dragged her feet to follow him. He turned around and resumed his exit as soon as Myra caught up with him, not seeming overly concerned at Myra's apparent reluctant attitude.

They eventually travelled their way back to where Myra had made the discovery of the inventory discrepancy. She noticed there seemed to be at least a handful more individuals present in the warehouse than when she and Barsad had been in it earlier. They all stopped their tasks, frozen as they saw Bane, Myra and his men enter the warehouse.

Myra stood at Bane's shoulder next to Barsad, who stood at his other shoulder. She looked around the room and into the corners so that she didn't have to make eye contact with the man that was staring her down earlier as she was counting the inventory.

"What have we here?" Bane asked the man who seemed to be in charge of the unorthodox situation of having an inventory discrepancy. Bane gripped his hands onto the straps of his vest as he sauntered closer. Bane left approximately 30 feet between him and the man who now very clearly started to sweat again.

He eyed Bane up and down, and then to the men at Bane's back that he had brought with him, and then back to Bane. He was very clearly calculating his odds of either escaping or engaging in a firefight. He also failed to acknowledge or respond to Bane; perhaps he knew the jig was up and didn't figure it would be worth digging himself further into the hole he made for himself.

Myra quickly realized there was definitely going to be a confrontation when one of the man's hands drifted slowly to his holstered weapon. She saw Bane angle his head towards Barsad using the non-verbal communication tactics the two seemed to share (_how do I learn that language…?). _Several of Bane's men inched forward past Bane and closer to the sweating man, their hands also going to their weapons in response to the imminent threat.

Bane's men were the first aggressors, bringing their guns up and taking shots. During this distraction, Bane bodily lifted Myra off of her feet to bring her several strides away behind a large wooden pallet loaded with resources; an adequate cover. He pushed her up face-first against the loaded wooden pallet, covering and shielding her body from behind with his while he used his large hands to cover her ears – as if the noise from the whole ordeal was the thing that was going to be the most offensive to Myra's senses.

Myra squinted her eyes at the sound of the gunshots, bringing her hands up instinctively to cover her ears which had already been covered by Bane's, so she just ended up covering her hands over his. Despite the extremely close proximity to the gun shots, the obvious threat, their precarious situation, Myra felt an indescribable calm settling over her. She realized it was most definitely induced by Bane's actions; he didn't _rush _with her to take cover, he didn't tackle her to the ground, his actions didn't indicate in any way that they were about to die. In fact, he was covering her ears as if they were attending an outdoor concert and were sitting too close to the loudspeakers. She also felt the motion of his breathing as his chest inhaled and exhaled against her back; it was slow, methodical; calming. Her mind fixated onto the warm feeling of his hands over her ears and the slow rise and fall of his chest against her back. She felt almost awkward at how calm and casual she felt about the situation. She wondered if he was intentionally breathing into her back to lull her and guide her into a calm and relaxed state.

After what must have only been seconds, Bane leaned down to bring the grill of his mask right next to her ear so she could hear him over the noise.

"Don't move from this spot. Is that understood?" he half-shouted over the sound of gunfire.

Myra quickly nodded.

Bane, satisfied with her physical indicator, gave her ears an affectionate squeeze before he dislodged them. He readjusted her hands over her ears firmly before he moved away from her and was out of sight as he went head-first into the frenzy like a shark diving straight first into a school of unsuspecting tuna.

Myra had no proper vantage point of the situation, but she could only assume what was happening. As soon as Bane was added to the mix, there were guttural screams of torture and pain. The gunshots eventually ebbed altogether, with only the sound of vicious tissue-on-tissue sounds being heard within the enclosed warehouse space.

Myra eased her hands away from her ears after she felt that the general chaos had settled considerably. There were no more gun shots, and she couldn't hear any more obvious signs of bones crunching or tearing. Her eyes did immediately look down as she heard a scraping on the ground around the corner from her pallet hideout; she realized someone was crawling towards her.

Her eyes were large as she saw a bloodied-face man – the same sweaty man who had scrutinized her earlier and was the obvious leader of the inventory mishap – ease around the corner on his hands and knees. She barely recognized him because half of his face appeared to be torn off. He had one of his arms curled around his stomach in an apparent attempt at holding pressure on a gunshot wound to his stomach.

"Help….help me…." he groaned as he tilted his head back to look up at her, pure terror and agony marring his features. Myra stood frozen as she stared down at him, genuinely not sure what she should do; she felt pity and sympathy for him, but he was also responsible for foolishly deceiving Bane and putting him and his men – _her- _ in danger by instigating a firefight.

Myra, fortunately, didn't have to make a decision; the man suddenly jerked as his body was pulled back by the ankle, out of sight around the opposite side of the wooden pallet that Myra was taking cover. The scream that the man let out made her cover her ears again. She could hear the sound of what she felt like was a frozen bag of pees being scraped against the inside of an ice box before the sounds of the screaming suddenly stopped. She could only fathom what that man succumbed to.

Her eyes grew large when she saw Bane finally make his way around the corner, blood covering a good portion of his body. Her eyes darted down to his hands; they appeared as if he had fully dipped them up to the elbow into a pot of red chunky spaghetti sauce. She made a face as if she were about to be ill. Bane responded by quickly bending down and wiping his hands on the clothing of the nearest dead body before straightening himself back up to get her approval. She simply grimaced at him.

She forced herself to push aside the obvious nausea of the situation as she approached him, bringing a hand up to check the larger blood spots on his body to see if they were because he was bleeding or if it was splatter from his 'activities'.

"Are you hurt? Are you bleeding?" she asked hurriedly as her hands and eyes roamed over him, feeling as if she already knew the answer; he was standing up straight and had no visible indications of being in pain.

Bane grabbed her quickly by the wrists to stop her inspection.

"Stop fussing. I'm not injured," he said in an odd mixture of annoyance and amusement.

Myra furrowed her brows while glaring at him, before letting her eyes continue doing a visual search of his body in case he wasn't fully aware of some stab wound. She didn't see anything. He released his hold on her wrists after she seemed satisfied with her inspection. He turned towards Barsad who was in the midst of reloading his weapon now that the fighting had stopped. Bane's eyes moved towards the dead bodies strewn all over the warehouse floor before returning his gaze back to Barsad's.

"Arrange to have this cleaned up," Bane ordered simply, guiding Myra abruptly out of the warehouse by gripping her upper arm to steer her away from the carnage. He didn't release his hold on her arm until they had made their way back to the penthouse building.

* * *

Following the 'Talia ordeal', Bane had been particularly mindful around Myra. Not that he hadn't been before, but there were instances in which he may have went 'the extra mile' to make sure she knew she wasn't just there as an idle fancy; someone who simply served the purpose of 'keeping his feet warm at night'.

One of these instances perhaps would include nights when Myra would be fidgeting awake at night, unable to get back to sleep for various reasons. Bane would reach over to her, push aside the strands of hair covering her forehead while placing his large hand over it to check her temperature. He would then politely inquire why she wasn't sleeping. It generally had to do with her laziness regarding whether she wanted to get out of bed to get a glass of water to satiate the thirst she was feeling or because she had a mild headache. Her response would usually just be "I'm thirsty" or "I have a little bit of a headache".

Without further explanation, Bane would ease himself out of bed with a mild grunt of exertion and amble to the mini bar at the far end of the master suite bedroom. He would then grab her a glass and fill it with water and would perhaps rummage around for a pain killer before coming back to stand on her side of the bed, leaning down to deliver her the contents like a half-naked, bare-chested butler handing her items in his hands like they were on a serving platter. Myra would ease herself up from the bed, take the glass of water gratefully, pop the painkiller if need be, and would bury herself back into bed without further fuss, usually falling asleep within minutes after being tended to. Bane would amble back to his side of the bed, crawl in, and wait until she was asleep by detecting the shift in her breathing into slow and steady, before he himself went back to sleep.

Myra quickly learned that there really was no reason to get out of bed if she fidgeted long enough that Bane would eventually take notice and ask her what her issue was, and then would get up and remedy it for her without complaint. She knew she 'hooked him' and he was on the verge of tending to her discomforts when she felt him shift towards her in bed and reach out with his large hand to engulf her forehead to check it to see if she was ill with a temperature – which she found amusing because she never had a tendency of being feverish or even being ill, particularly under his watch. Myra didn't mind because she loved the feel of his massive hand spreading across her skin and consuming her forehead for a few moments as he took in her temperature, usually resulting in her eyes also being fully blanketed by his hand due to the size of it versus the size of her forehead. Bane continued to check her temperature, regardless of him ever finding a pattern of her developing a fever, because he found the feel of her eyelashes brushing against his skin like fidgeting caterpillars extremely pleasant as she shifted her eyes around expectantly as she waited for his diagnosis.

Bane was even polite enough to disregard the fact that if she had to use the bathroom at night, she seemed to have no problem or hesitation flinging herself out of bed with vigor and march energetically to the restroom to use the facilities, and then make her way back into bed without another word.

If her complaint had something to do with not having enough pillows (despite already utilizing 3 of the 4 pillows afforded on the bed, with one under her head, one between her knees, and one against her stomach), Bane would sacrifice his one pillow over to her, content with using his arm for the rest of the night if it meant she was just a minuscule more comfortable from his sacrifice.

Sometimes her needs in bed weren't of the water or pillow variety, and she very clearly had something on her mind while her eyes roamed over Bane's exposed body as he slept next to her. She would reach out and let her hand roam from his bare chest down to his stomach and settle just above the waistband of his briefs, trying to get any indicator on whether he was awake or not. If he didn't respond to her hand gliding over his skin immediately, then she would become emboldened as her hand dipped under his briefs and made contact with the soft bulge that was settled under there, cupping it lightly in her hand.

This, of course, caused Bane's eyes to shoot open from slumber as his body became rigid, his breath stilling. His eyes would roam around the ceiling, then the wall, then to Myra who was usually on her side staring right at him with a wide-eyed expression. Depending on his exhaustion level, he would give out a loud sigh before rolling over and engage in whatever activity she had on her mind with an appropriate level of enthusiasm. Unfortunately, when Bane was exhausted or tired, particularly when woken up specifically for the task; he found it incredible difficult to 'get in the mindset'.

Not caring about his own needs at that point and simply satiating the need that seemed to be fizzling off of Myra, he would roll over towards her and ease his body sluggishly over hers as he shoved her underwear down enough to gain him access before entering her with a moderate level of difficulty due to his lethargy and lack of elevated arousal. Myra knew at that point that he was simply going through the motions to get her to orgasm, which she eventually would with the help of one of his hands snaking down to expedite the process by rubbing her in just the right spot to stimulate her further as he rocked his body over her slowly and methodically.

As soon as she came, he would immediately stop his actions and ease himself off and out of her. He would then roll back into a comfortable position before falling asleep immediately with a deep sigh emitted through his mask. She came to realize that he underwent these instances for her benefit only; his preference would probably have been to remain sleeping since he never became nearly aroused enough to near completion himself when in this zombie state. He did so without a fuss even if it was completed half-asleep with his eyes usually closed as if he were one second away from passing out again.

There were nights, however, when Bane was just simply so exhausted that he couldn't bring himself to position over and into her, which required at least a moderate level of exertion and arousal on his part. In these instances, he would roll over towards her but lay prone on his stomach next to her. He would then bend his elbow and reach down into her panties and dip his hand under the fabric and begin servicing her needs with gentle but firm strokes by either twisting his fingers over her soft nub or curling several fingers into her folds. Sometimes he would perform both tasks by using his thumb and index finger to rub and twist her nub while letting his other fingers penetrate and curl against her inner flesh.

Being one breath away from falling asleep while he was performing these tasks meant that, on several occasions, he would sometimes slow down and suddenly stop as he drifted back to sleep with his fingers often still inside her. Myra, who's mind was very clearly focused on the impending orgasm induced by his brilliant handy work, would furrow her brows as soon as she realized he dozed back to sleep. She would then swing a hand back to lightly smack him in the face. This would cause him to startle awake in confusion, his brows furrowed as he took in his environment before directing it to her in a glare. The firm and intense gaze he gave her very clearly indicated that if the hand that smacked him in the face had belonged on any other person, it most definitely would have been ripped off at the shoulder.

She would respond by smiling at him teasingly, ignoring the danger and fine line she knew she walked on as it was concerned with smacking Bane in the face. She would then arch her back with her eyes fluttering at him suggestively, letting the hand that had just smacked him moments earlier trail the contour of his face. He would ease his furrowed brows and close his eyes again with an irritated huff before continuing with his task between Myra's legs until it was obvious that Myra's sexual needs had been met for the evening. He would reclaim his fingers slowly and lethargically before quickly falling back to sleep with several fingers that looked like they were coated in very thin layer of dried white wax.

Another instance was her idle complaint about him being too warm to properly snuggle with at night, causing her to sweat sometimes. She found that the temperature to the room – heck, the entire building – had been re-set to a chilly temperature the following day, which actually resorted in her seeking out his body just to stay warm. It also resulted in everyone in the building wearing winter clothing as if the heat in the building went out.

Bane also made it his mission to enlighten Myra on the art of cooking after he discovered her preference for take-out food simply wasn't out of convenience but rather because she was a terrible cook who was unable to prepare anything beyond microwavable options. Myra tried reasoning to him that her grandmother had made every attempt at teaching her to cook before she died to no avail. This fact did not seem to deter him.

Bane generally woke up before Myra did, so he would instruct her to message him with the mobile device he had given her as soon as she woke up so that they could rendezvous in the kitchen to learn about basic breakfast food preparations. Myra found it ridiculous that someone who grew up in a prison and led a rogue mercenary way of life had more cooking knowledge than she did; enough so that he was able to attempt at instilling into her a similar set of skills.

They would make use of the large luxury kitchen in their master suite, with Bane showing Myra how to cut and prep things before urging her to try. It initially started out as Bane having every intent on showing Myra enough to allow her to then go and cook an item after prepping the ingredients. When this failed after several very near kitchen fires, he would then stand immediately behind her and press himself up against her back and take control of her arms while he rested his chin on her shoulder to peer down at the task. Despite helping her like a puppet by guiding her arms and watching directly from over her shoulder, the process of cooking still failed whenever Myra was involved. Simply put, she was cursed. She lacked the certain phenomenon that occurred in certain individuals that simply allowed them 'to cook'.

After Bane deemed Myra a hopeless cause, these cooking lessons turned into Myra simply helping Bane prep and prepare their meals while he cooked it, with her usually watching off to the side as a captive audience. This allowed them to discover what each other's food preferences were, with Myra tending to like basic blander foods and Bane preferring things with intense spices and herbs.

Bane enjoyed having Myra try certain spices because her reaction would always be outrageous which he of course found vastly entertaining. One time when he urged her to try what he deemed to be a very mild spice, she immediately started sputtering and retching into the sink. This induced a few very rare and loud deep-throated laughs from Bane, which were muffled by his mask. Myra shot him a vengeful look after hearing that his rare laughter was directed at her.

"Oh, I see. You just keep me around because I amuse you. Is that it?" Myra half snickered; half sneered.

"Of course," Bane said, after his breath calmed from the amusement of the situation.

Myra didn't appreciate that response, so she dipped her fingers into some pancake batter and spread it under his cheeks quickly like a football player while he was flipping a pancake. Bane responded by immediately putting down the spatula on the counter and grabbing her around the middle and forcing her to the ground. He used his knee to press against her lower body while he kept her upper body down by planting both hands on her shoulders and easing his weight down onto her as he hovered over her. A combination of screaming and laughter erupted out of Myra's mouth.

"Lick it off," Bane ordered in a serious, non-playful way as he peered down at her.

"NO!" Myra laughed at him, looking at the pancake batter dripping down his cheeks.

"Lick it off right now," Bane ordered again in a slightly more sinister tone.

Myra continued to laugh despite the seriousness of his tone, her eyes closing at the intensity of her laughter.

"_No_! Our food's burning! _You're going to start a fire_!" She scream-laughed.

"Then you had better lick it off quickly," Bane said, dead serious.

Myra started squirming in an attempt to try and dislodge herself from under him so she could save their food from being burnt. She barely budged as Bane adjusted himself to further cover her body with his. He looked at her pointedly, clearly indicating he wasn't going to move until she did what he said even if the whole room started on fire.

She reluctantly grabbed his head with both of her hands, forced it down closer to hers, and hurriedly licked the batter of his cheeks. The smell of burning pancake started filling her nostrils as their food very clearly was getting burnt on the grill. Bane stared down at her with daggers in his eyes as she performed this task, which was a mixture of licking followed by periodic bursts of laughter from her mouth. When she was done, she shoved at him to get off of her which he complied by using his knee to help leverage himself up with a grunt of exertion before immediately seeing to the burnt pancake. He flipped it off of the grill and put it onto a plate.

"This one's yours," he said, all-seriousness.

Myra grinned, grabbing a washcloth with some water and soap and went to stand next to him. She reached up and aggressively swiped away the last remnants of pancake batter off of his face and mask while his eyes were focused on cooking. Her tongue had very clearly been a poor tool for cleaning pancake batter off his face.

After she was done, she reached up to his head and forced it down closer to her height as she stood on her tip toes. Bane complied to the direction Myra was directing his head while maintaining his focus on the frying pan. She planted a loud obnoxious kiss on the side of his head where there was exposed skin. Myra could see indicators of a grin creeping on his face from the softness of his eyes and the creases that formed at their corners.

"You amuse me too, _I suppose,_" she said, releasing the hold she had on his head. She reached out to the burnt pancake and unceremoniously tossed it into the trash. She waited until he provided her with a few unburnt pancakes before she made her way over to the small table where they eat their meals. She immediately started consuming her food even before Bane was finished cooking the rest of his pancakes.

Bane made his way to the table, placing his plate down as he eased himself into the chair. He then unlatched his mask, took a deep breath, and then placed it on the edge of the counter before immediately digging into his food in a rush. Myra eyed him, already finished with her own pancakes but now suddenly feeling very hungry again. She got up from her chair quickly, edging her way around the table to stand at his side and waited until he had a forkful of pancake before she made her move. As he was about to force the food into his mouth, Myra swooped in like a seagull from the air and bit down and snatched the food right off the fork. She eased herself back and immediately started chewing with a huge grin on her face.

Bane glared at her for several seconds before putting his fork down slowly on the table. He reached for his mask, bringing it to his face and took several deep breaths into it; clearly, he was prolonging his lifeline without the mask for he foresaw some immediate need to do so. He set the mask back down and got up from his chair and loomed over her. Myra continued to grin, though she did inch back slightly due to his size and proximity.

Without a word, he quickly tackled her to the ground. He brought his knee and leg up and over her to straddle her properly at the waist, wrapping his hands onto her wrists and forcing his weight forward to keep them planted on the floor.

"You're in true form today, aren't you?" he said irritably, his eyes moving to her mouthful of pancake.

"Yes," she laughed as she started squirming between chewing her - _his - _ food.

Bane squeezed her wrists gently before he bent down and planted his mouth over hers aggressively. He forced her mouth open and Myra could feel his tongue dip in and scoop the remnants of the pancake right out like a hungry bear claw searching and curling around a honey hole for the last remnants of sweet delicious honey. Myra started laughing which of course only had the mild effect of projecting any last food remnants into his mouth from the burst of air. He didn't seem to care.

He eased himself back and eyed her as he finished chewing the last remnants of pancake, making sure she was watching him as he fully swallowed the food she tried to steal. He didn't immediately get off of her but kept her pinned for several moments as if deciding what he should do, as if to tease her into thinking he was debating some fort of malicious punishment. He wasn't doing a very good job at looking sinister or menacing, however, since Myra's smile only seemed to deepen the longer he stared at her.

He eventually rolled himself off of her, helping her up by grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. He sat down in his chair, cutting his pancake stack in half quickly and transferring it to her plate without a glance or a word in her direction before he quickly continued to scarf the remaining pancake stack before the pain from not wearing the mask caught up to him.

If Bane had to leave the building on business in the morning before Myra woke up, Myra would always be pleasantly surprised to find a tray of her preferred breakfast foods arrayed thoughtfully for her on her bedside table.

Bane also recruited – _or kidnapped- _a renowned stock analyst named George, inviting him to stay as a 'guest' within the penthouse. His _only _job was to coach and educate Myra further on the intricacies of stock trading. Myra was initially reluctant to receive tutelage from a man very clearly terrified and distraught from the ordeal of being kidnapped. The man's fears eased considerably, however, when he learned that his _only _job was to instruct and guide Myra into making better and more educated decisions and to properly use algorithms when conducting her casual 'side business' with the $4,500,000 account she was in charge of (which was now up to $5,200,000). Considering the nature of the account that Myra looked over as being purely recreational and exploratory, this move by Bane was all for Myra's benefit. Myra had to politely tell Bane the next time he wanted to do something nice for her, some flowers or a card would suffice; please, _please _don't kidnap people on her behalf. Bane found her comment incredibly amusing, which made Myra think that he assumed she was joking and being insincere; which she was not.

George also became more relaxed when he realized he wasn't going to be killed or maimed, and that it may actually be more beneficial and safer for him to be inside the penthouse given the current state of Gotham. He also apparently didn't find Myra threatening. At all. Myra actually liked George quite a lot; he was a short, squat, balding older man who wore glasses and tended to sweat profusely. Myra didn't find him threatening at all either, which Myra suspected may have been one of the motivating factors behind Bane choosing him to tutor Myra, knowing they were going to be alone together for extended periods of time. However, aside from his genius regarding stocks, he also was pleasant to discuss TV shows that Myra used to watch frequently and obsess over plot holes. She also discovered that she and George shared a mutual affinity for sloths, so sometimes they would deviate from their lessons to look at sloth pictures and videos online.

The thing that truly topped the metaphorical cake in terms of Bane going the 'extra mile' for Myra and to make sure she was comfortable and would never have to spiral into self-doubt about her role as it was concerned with Bane was his ability to keep Talia away from the penthouse building, specifically the master suite bedroom. While Myra had the vague impression that Talia wasn't supposed to be making appearances anyway, possibly because she was also in the middle of a job, that certainly didn't mean she didn't; she did what she wanted since she was in charge on a technical level. Bane had also let slip the word 'infiltrate' during his words he described the things Talia did, so Myra also made a general guess that she may actually be engaging in some 'infiltration' presently.

Bane assured that Talia and Myra would never cross paths again due to one instance in the evening that Myra experienced while she was in the master suite bedroom idly clipping her toenails with one foot in her hand, her leg and knee bent at an awkward angle and her other hand holding the clippers. After one large 'clip' noise coming from the nail clippers, Myra realized that the door handle to her room was slowly turning. She lifted her head to look to see who was about to enter, with one foot held awkwardly in her hand, but the knob to the door suddenly stopped turning and she heard a commotion outside the door. Her ears tried to pick up what the noise was, and realized it was two individuals engaging in some sort of very loud shouting match.

She couldn't make out who it was; it was soft muffles at first. Then it slowly grew louder and more intense. Her eyes grew larger as she tried to decipher who the voices were, and realized it was Bane and Talia. Her face paled when she made this realization, her body going rigid and suddenly she was extremely self-conscious. She slowly eased her foot down onto the floor and stared intently at the door almost half expecting Talia to walk right in.

She didn't see the door open, but instead heard a large 'thump' noise as if a meat sack had been thrown against the wall. It startled Myra, who jumped in her chair. She saw several of the decorative hangings jostle from the impact. She immediately realized it was a body that had been either picked up and thrown or shoved into the wall. Myra made her assumptions about who got pushed or thrown into the wall based on both Bane and Talia's seeming physical capabilities and size.

Myra heard rapid footsteps retreating from the source of the large 'thump', away from the entrance to the master suite. Myra's eyes remained fixated on the door, which finally slowly opened to reveal a disheveled and red-faced Bane. He looked over to Myra and gave her a curt nod. Myra saw a considerable level of possessiveness washed over his face; he clearly made a show of demonstrating what's his was 'his' and no one else, not even Talia, had a right to interfere. He reacted to some extent by lashing out like a dog guarding his food bowl from his pack mates. _Great. I'm the food. _

Myra doubted very much that Bane had these sorts of demonstrations often if ever, considering the communal way he lived as a mercenary and not claiming many things as 'his'. Myra also made this assumption based on the slight hint of discomfort that also seemed to radiate off of him that very well could have been an indicator that this was one of the first times he physically lashed out towards Talia. Bane made no comment of the situation that occurred as he closed the door to the master suite quickly, locking it, and made his way to the bathroom to begin his 'before bed' routine as if it were any other night.

* * *

_**Author: If you got this far, don't forget to review! :) I promise, there is a direct correlation between reviews and how fast I churn out another chapter :0 **_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

_**Author: It cracks me up writing about seemingly mundane relationship interactions that aren't generally discussed or elaborated on because they are either gross or just…-shrug-. PREPARE TO BE ELABORATED UPON. Please allow me to get a few of those off of my chest as I venture into: 'How Myra and Bane deal with those 'things''. It will resume to our regular scheduled program after that. Let me know if you find those 'bits' funny though, because I'll add more :P I'm always curious to know what *YOU* like to see and what you'd like me to elaborate on MORE/elaborate LESS on. Don't be shy! I'm also warning you all; this story is going to get *pretty angsty* here in a couple chapters. So it might seem all happy and 'fluffy' now...phew, oh boy. Just wait. **_

_**Also, huge thank you to sunflower2527 for your amazing reviews! You're amazing! I really appreciate you! And Jettsetter17; perfectly stated as always. Your reviews are extremely appreciated and welcome! Finally, thanks OOBER! I'm glad you love this story **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 4 Months

Myra had certainly grown accustomed to and enjoyed her new lifestyle. While she had brief stints in past relationships where she lived and shared a space briefly, this was by far the longest she'd routinely had to share a bed and living space with someone over an extended period of time. She was almost embarrassed by the fact, particularly with the casualness and expert handling that Bane seemed to deal with the situation. However, there were simple things she observed during their domestic 'stint' that indicated this was also the first time he dabbled at a domestic co-inhabiting with a woman for as long as this.

Most of these had to do with bathroom habits.

The first thing she noticed, that was very obvious, was the fact he never put the toilet seat back down. She knew he spent the vast majority of his time with men; however, common sense would dictate (and past relationships) that you should always put the toilet seat down after you were done unless you wanted an earful from your woman. When Myra brought this up, Bane looked genuinely surprised, indignant almost, that 'he' was supposed to put the toilet seat down, and that it wasn't her job since she was the one that needed to use it in a different 'setting than what it was last positioned in'. She made sure he knew how very wrong he was about that.

After successfully weaning Bane into putting the toilet seat down, the next thing she noticed was very obvious instances of pee on the toilet seat. She _hated _that, particularly since it now appeared as if Bane was taking her word literally and never put the toilet seat up to do his business but instead kept it chronically 'down'. She wondered how he didn't even see the pee; or at the very least, take a piece of toilet paper and clean it up. Myra brought this up to. His response was:

"What's your fixation on the loo?" with a mixture of humor, tease, and condescension.

Myra told him the next time she found pee on the toilet seat, she was going to pee on his pillow. He didn't doubt her words, so he promised to be more careful in the future and resorted to lift the toilet seat up when he needed to followed by promptly putting it back down.

Other indicators would include Bane barging into the bathroom while she was using it, with the door very clearly closed, as if he weren't expecting anyone else in it. When this happened, it started as being both embarrassing and incredibly humiliating as she waved at him frantically to get out of the bathroom while she sat on 'the throne', or as Bane called it, 'the loo'. He would immediately turn on his heels, his eyes shooting to the ceiling to avoid seeing Myra sitting down doing her business, exiting the room quickly, looking almost as embarrassed as Myra felt.

However, this happened so frequently that their relationship had progressed to the point where Myra would simply look up with a bored expression when he entered the bathroom. Bane very clearly continued to ignore the closed door indicating there was an occupant and went about doing whatever it was he intended on doing in the bathroom. He also blatantly ignored her on the toilet, his level of embarrassment also completely evaporated as time went on and they saw glimpses of each other in some of their more vulnerable moments. She started to wonder why she even closed the bathroom door.

She eventually stopped closing the door.

One thing that wouldn't necessarily fall under 'bathroom habits', but more along the line of 'bio-fluid curiosity' was when Myra got her period and Bane's preoccupation with that event. Specifically, the prospect of having sex with her _while _she had her period as if it were a thing on an imaginary 'bucket list' of his that he hadn't ever had the chance or opportunity to do before with a woman simply because he hadn't lived with one or managed to engage in sex while they were menstruating since it was sometimes a taboo act to ask and perform. Myra found his fascination and desire disgusting.

She had been lucky enough in the previous months to have her period either during a stint in which Bane was away, or during a stretch in which they simply didn't engage in any sexual intercourse, so the notion of engaging in sex during her cycle was never discussed or broached. When it became obvious to Myra that Bane wanted nothing more than to 'try it out', Myra was mortified. She tended to have a heavy flow; there would be blood. Everywhere. She couldn't think of anything less appealing than engaging in sex and then turning to look at the after affects where she had been seated as well as remnants of the event on Bane's lower body, undoubtedly resembling a bloody massacre. Bane apparently didn't care about bloody massacres.

Bane, of course, was far less sensitized to blood than Myra was. He even eventually managed to coerce her into trying it with him, putting down a towel on the bed for her to sit on so she didn't get any blood on the bed.

"….did you have to pick a white towel?" Myra grumbled, as he was laying the towel down for her. Bane ignored her.

During the event, Myra could tell Bane was absolutely relishing in the feel of more than one type of organic fluid coating his cock. He did not seem to care in the least that one of those was her menstrual blood. Myra couldn't tell much difference from a sensation standpoint other than the slight feel of moisture or slickness between her legs. She didn't even feel the slow rise of her orgasm (probably because she was so distracted with the notion of 'blood' and 'mess on the bed') before she felt the jet-like propulsion of Bane's cum funneling inside of her, indicating to her that he couldn't contain himself (usually being the gentleman and waiting for her to come first); it must have just felt _that _good to him.

Myra stared up into his face wide-eyed as he rode out his orgasm, never usually being in a calm-enough mind set to actually focus and take in what he looked like when he came. Her eyes looked over his face, observing his eyes clenched closed, the tips of his surprisingly long and fair eyelashes coated with a dewy perspiration, his face turning red as he held his breath, beads of sweat coating his exposed cheeks and forehead with his head bobbing up and down with the movement of his body as he continued to drive into her. Myra suddenly felt heat gathering in the pit of her stomach as she watched him, and almost instantaneously, her body starting writhing as she very clearly came just as his was finishing and spending himself inside of her, shocking herself by the suddenness of her orgasm.

Bane continued to slowly and methodically bob and dip inside of her even after he came and it was obvious Myra had settled down after hers, his face looking like a child having an absolute blast on a playground, or more appropriately, a 'slip and slide'. She was patient while he continued to do this but pushed him off after he started to overstay his welcome, Myra feeling like there was no apparent end in sight to him stopping.

After they were done, and Myra lay on the bed for a few moments, she was reluctant to get up. She wanted Bane to leave so she could clean up the mess without him watching. He didn't allow her the chance, for as soon as he was up and off of her, he hauled her up too by the arm. Myra quickly turned to see the damage, horrified at what she saw. She quickly tried to roll the towel up and remove all blood-stained evidence that looked like a crime scene. Bane stopped her by grabbing her firmly by her up arms and bodily moving her to the side.

She started chewing on her nails ferociously as she watched Bane clean up the remnants of her mess on the bed, embarrassed. Bane seemed absolutely unphased, almost amused at how much anxiety a bit of blood on the towel seemed to stress her out given the fact that it wasn't even from a wound; it was from a natural biological cycle. He simply rolled up the towel, using it to clean the lower half of him off quickly with a few swipes. He then grabbed her by the arm to bring her closer so he could repeat the gesture on her lower half like he was cleaning a baby's bottom. He even forced her to spread her legs by grabbing hold of one of her thighs and yanked it off to the side so he could be thorough with his cleaning, and then sauntered to the bathroom nonchalantly.

Myra finally stopped chewing her nails when she realized that the world wasn't going to collapse under her feet at the prospect of her period blood being purposefully allowed to leak onto a towel.

* * *

During the day when Bane was away, Myra generally resorted to various activities to keep her entertained throughout the day. The first thing she usually did straight-away when waking up was that she generally sent Bane text messages. They were usually aspirational in nature; simple messages just to let him know she was thinking about him and that she hoped he was having a pleasant day. Bane never responded to these messages, however. Myra knew he read them though, because she could see the 'read' indicator under the messages that he had both seen and read them.

Sometimes they would simply be messages, like:

"You're doing great!" _Read. _

"I saw a picture of a grumpy looking hairless cat and thought of you" _Read _

"Hang in there! Pretty soon you will get to take your pants off" _Read_

"Thanks for putting leftovers in the fridge for me! I reheated it and it was delicious." _Read_

"As soon as I started thinking about you, I felt all warm and soft inside. It might have been the reheated food in my belly though." _Read_

"You're the most intelligent man I know. Keep being smart! I can't say 'human' of course, because you are in direct competition with me" _Read _

"Do you want to know how I know you're so smart? Because you chose me" _Read _

"I think you're pretty solid" _Read _

"You're my favorite person. Good job at being my favorite person! There's only one of you!" _Read _

"You look really great bald. I don't think I would look as great as you do if I were bald. What do you think?" _Read _

"Try not to be so hard on people today! There aren't many people who are as smart as you, so you can't blame them for not being able to keep up " _Read_

Other times, of course, the messages were requests from Myra directly to Bane since that was also her only line of communication with him during the day if he wasn't also in the master suite. She had no idea where he went or where to find him once he exited the door, so texting was necessary to get his attention. Some examples of those kinds of text messages would include the following:

"There's a spider in the bathroom. Can you please come up and kill it for me ASAP?" _Read_

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. THE SPIDER. IT'S TRAPPING ME IN THE BATHROOM PLEASE SEND HELP" _Read_

"S.O.S. RED ALERT RED ALERT. KILLER SPIDER" _Read_

"I really appreciate you coming in and killing that spider. While I wish maybe you had come right away instead of forcing me to stay trapped in the bathroom for hours in complete terror, the fact that you came up and squashed it with your bare hand for me really means a lot to me. Thank you" _Read _

"I was just checking in to see how my big strong spider killer was doing. You're doing great! You're the best! " _Read _

"HE HAS FRIENDS" _Read_

"PLEASE. OH GOD PLEASE COME BACK THERE IS ANOTHER ONE. I'M GOING TO DIE" _Read _

"Thanks again for coming up and killing that other spider for me. While I didn't necessarily appreciate you picking it up with your hand and trying to show it to me to highlight there isn't anything to fear, and in that process, it jumping from your hand into my hair causing me to black out and faint for a few seconds, your response time was superb. A+++ on response time. D- on execution." _Read _

"I think we need to move. I think I saw another spider. It's too dangerous here. I can't live in these conditions." _Read_

"Thanks for sending that exterminator up. A heads up with have been nice; I nearly shit my pants when a guy with a large rocketeer-looking backpack waltzed in looking like he was going to spray me in the face and kill me. He didn't. But it was close. He told me the spider issue should be resolved. YAAAAAAY." _Read _

"You remind me of a really cute baby rhino. Can we get a baby rhino?" _Read _

"I can't get this jar open. Can you come up and open it for me, my big strong hunky man?" _Read _

Sometimes, Myra got out of hand. Bane was discussing strategies with Barsad when his phone started buzzing in rapid succession. He checked it to see if it was of importance, furrowing his brows in concentration as he read it, and read the first message from Myra:

"You are my sunshine," it simply said.

Bane was still holding it when the next message popped up on the screen.

"My only sunshine," it said.

"You make me happpppyyyyyyy," another one read, immediately being sent after the second one.

Bane pocketed his phone after realizing quickly that she intended on writing each song lyric into the phone. He gave Barsad a very irritated look, which Barsad had vaguely interpreted as Bane was receiving undesirable information regarding their objectives. Bane noticed the look of concern and simply waved a hand at him in dismissal, indicating the issue was of no importance. At all.

They continued going through their tactics and strategies as Bane's phone continued to buzz in his pocket distractingly throughout the ordeal.

When Bane was done with Barsad, he stormed up to the master suite. He found Myra sitting idly at a chair reading a book. She looked up when she saw him storm in, startled.

"Give me your phone," Bane ordered gruffly.

"What? Why?" Myra asked confused.

"I'm taking it away from you. You've lost your phone privileges," Bane said in a lecture-like tone.

Myra became distressed, grabbing the phone off of the table she was sitting at and clutching it to her chest possessively.

"Noo! Don't! Why?!" she whined.

"You're abusing it," Bane responded simply.

Myra's face immediately fell, having up to that point assumed that Bane had perhaps mildly enjoyed her small words of encouragement or text messages. In the very least found them amusing. He very clearly didn't. She clutched the phone further into her chest.

"I promise I'll stop. Don't take it!" Myra mumbled out, mildly distressed.

Bane stood there, analyzing her and the situation and realized she was being sincere. He figured that was good enough and simply nodded, turning around and exiting the room to return to his duties.

Several days after the incident, Bane felt himself checking his phone every day around the same time when Myra usually woke up and sent him messages as if still anticipating a message from her. He never got one of course, since he very firmly told her that he didn't like it and insinuated he didn't appreciate them. He felt himself feeling very differently now that the routine and content of those messages was suddenly removed. While he may have been annoyed that she found a way to text him during inopportune moments, he couldn't deny that he didn't appreciate someone thinking about him and offering him words of encouragement and thoughtfulness on a purely selfless basis. Particularly if those messages were a stark contrast to the hell he had to face daily when not interacting with Myra. He started hating himself for being instrumental in the removal of that extra pleasantry in his day, since his pleasantries were so rare and far between.

After roughly a week of this, Myra and Bane were at the kitchen table about to sit down and eat their food that Bane had prepared, Bane saw Myra's phone go off on the table. He couldn't help himself as his eyes roamed to the screen to see what the message read. It was simply the word "Thanks. You too". He looked to see who the recipient was; it was Barsad's number. He looked up at her quickly, questioningly. He saw Myra look to see what the content of the message was, a deep smile spreading across her face as she read it.

Myra looked up when she noticed Bane eyeing her, her smile immediately faltering. She returned his questioning glare, very obviously expecting some sort of explanation for the text message. She quickly finished chewing and swallowing her food, averting her eyes as redness creeped onto her cheeks.

"I told Barsad he's doing great, and that you are lucky to have him," Myra shrugged her shoulders, as if it were as simple as that.

Bane stared, his eyebrows slowly furrowing. It was obvious the feeling in Bane's chest was an inexplicable pang of jealousy at Barsad receiving sporadic encouraging messages from Myra, while he wasn't. It also appeared as if Barsad even went the extra mile and actually returned a simple reply to Myra; Bane never did that. He realized that every message he failed to return to Myra was a missed opportunity to make her feel appreciated and happy in return, as evident by the simple reply Barsad gave her and the content smile and softening of her eyes that it was able to induce. He suddenly felt a pang in his chest, almost an unease. Failure. Self-sabotage.

Bane twisted the fork in his hand, giving out a huff before looking down at his food which now appeared extremely unappetizing. Myra didn't appear to have the same problem, as she was already halfway through her meal.

After they had both finished and Myra was at the sink rinsing off and cleaning their plates while mindlessly humming "You are my sunshine", Bane slowly ambled up behind her. He looked uncomfortable, though Myra couldn't quite understand why. She gave him a look with a raised eyebrow.

"You…don't have to stop," Bane eased out, almost bashfully.

This confused Myra. She looked down at the dishes in her hand, and then back to him. Her eyebrows rose, clearly needing more of an explanation.

"What? Stop what?" she asked.

"Messaging me," Bane said almost shamefully.

Bane bodily shoved her to the side from the sink so he could take over and focus on cleaning the plates instead of having to look at her since she would eventually make the realization that he made a mistake in revoking that privilege in the first place. Bane rarely made mistakes and admitting them was a whole new beast.

Realization spread across her face before an intense smug look consumed her features. She stared at him with this expression for a good solid minute while he did the dishes, and then positioned herself behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, planting her cheek against his back.

"Okay. I won't," she mumbled into his back, her fingers scrunching against the material that covered his chest affectionately.

Bane wasn't sure whether he had made a mistake and unleashed a monster.

* * *

Bane was standing in the kitchen preparing a meal with Myra when he heard a knocking sound. At first, he couldn't quite place it, but then realized someone was knocking on the door to the entrance of their master suite. He looked around confused, then to Myra who looked up at him expectantly. He put down the knife that had been in his hand onto the table and rushed over to the door. He opened it to reveal Barsad. Barsad returned his gaze bored but expectantly. Bane's eyebrows lifted, genuinely confused for the presence of Barsad; their secret non-verbal communication very clearly failing him at this moment.

They stared at each other for several awkward moments before finally Myra rushed at them.

"Barsad! Thanks for coming!" Myra beamed. Bane's eyes darted to hers in confusion.

"I invited him over to eat with us! That's okay, right?" Myra asked as she slid past Bane and grabbed hold of Barsad's arm to haul him into the master suite. Bane glared at her. He did not like Myra making a domestic show of complacency to their situation and inviting someone else, even if it was Barsad, into their living space. Myra ignored his glare.

Barsad looked extremely uncomfortable as he was dragged in, looking to Bane for an indicator from him to just simply leave and forget about the invitation. Bane just sighed, stepping back and allowing Myra to follow through with whatever it was she had planned. Barsad stepped through the entrance tentatively, looking around, unsure where he should go.

"Over here; we're going to eat in the kitchen," Myra said, steering Barsad by the arm and leading him to the kitchen. Bane flanked them from behind, glowering.

Myra steered Barsad into an empty kitchen dining chair.

"We aren't quite done making the food, but it will be done shortly," Myra explained to him, turning to grab Bane by the arm and drag him back towards the food preparation area. As soon as the stood shoulder-to-shoulder, cleaning, cutting, and prepping the food, Bane turned towards her, scowling.

"I don't like you inviting people in here without my consent," he whispered to her, fuming.

Myra turned to him, aghast.

"What? Not even _Barsad_?" she whispered back.

"No," he replied grumpily, continuing with his task of meal preparation.

Myra glowered at him but then looked past Bane to Barsad. Barsad just sat there, staring at them and looking uncomfortable after witnessing a hushed verbal exchange between Bane and Myra that could only be about him. Myra smiled at him reassuringly, before turning her attention back to Bane, giving him a warning glare.

"Just be _NICE_ for once!" she retorted in a whisper.

Bane's eye's grew large and angry as he glared at her.

'What do you think I've been _doing_, woman? Be _mean_? You haven't see me mean..." Bane fumed at her.

"Just shut up and keep cutting," Myra snapped back at him.

Bane glared at her, not replying except by chopping the vegetable he held in his hand against a cutting board a tad bit more aggressively than necessary, creating loud 'chop chop chop' sounds that permeated the kitchen, his stare like daggers.

Myra helped him prepare three plates of food, bringing one of the plates to Barsad and placing it in front of him. Bane brought the last two plates over to the table, placing one where Myra was going to sit and the spot where he intended to sit. Once Bane sat down, he went through the process of removing his mask so he could eat the meal. Barsad's eyes snapped up at the display.

Barsad then turned and watched as Myra sat down and scooted her chair up closer to the table. Her focus apparently was on her food with little to no regard to Bane removing his mask. Barsad realized Myra must have seen Bane remove it so frequently that she was desensitized to it and didn't even notice it; it was commonplace. This fact startled Barsad; he couldn't remember the last time he felt this level of shock.

Even Barsad rarely saw Bane without his mask. Bane chose to eat isolated, away from his men. Removing his mask put him in an extremely vulnerable state; all it would take was one of his men to become emboldened and decide they wanted to usurp him, and they could do so easily without Bane having any means to stop them since his lifeline was severed temporarily. The fact that he freely removed his mask in front of Myra on such a continuous basis indicated to Barsad that he had unwavering and absolute trust in her.

Barsad's eyes roamed to Myra, who was practically inhaling the food, unaware of the chain of thought Barsad was experiencing. Barsad lifted his fork and started tentatively eating his own food, trying to avoid lifting his eyes up to observe Bane without his mask.

* * *

During her downtime, Myra had taken up knitting. She wasn't very good at it and only learned as much as her grandmother had cared to teach her before she died, but she felt compelled both due to the winter freeze that finally consumed Gotham City as well as her desire to make Bane something. He was constantly showering her with gifts and services, and she had been unable to reciprocate in any way because she couldn't honestly think of anything he wanted that he didn't already have as well as something she could readily provide him. Whenever Bane entered the room while she was in the process of knitting, she would quickly hide her project so he wouldn't see it. He knew she was up to something but was polite enough to ignore it. After roughly a month of this routine, she was finally done with her project and was ready to show him.

As Bane entered their master suite, he ambled into the bedroom and saw Myra settled in a chair, leaning forward expectantly after she had heard his approaching footsteps. The look she gave Bane made him slow his pace down and pause. She was practically shaking with anticipation, excitement and happiness playing across her features upon seeing him. Bane was initially confused, startled almost; no one was ever _that _happy to see him. Myra of course on most occasions was happy to be around him; but this level of excitement and joy was new. In fact, he was generally confronted with individuals that loathed his presence, who would definitely prefer him not being near. Or if they were, in fact, happy to see him it was because they wanted something from him that he was able to provide due to his power and resources. Myra's expression did not indicate she wanted to use Bane for either his power or resources, and in fact had something for him clearly stuffed conspicuously behind her back.

His eyes immediately softened and even glazed at the spectacle, the feeling so foreign and yet so welcome that it made his breath catch. Myra didn't pick up on the subtleties of his emotional shift, and instead bound towards him energetically with two chunky knit crafted items in her hand. She stopped in front of him, reaching up and grabbing his head forcefully between her hands and shoved a large knitted hazel green object over his face. The color of the green matched the hazel color of his eyes. It was clearly an attempt on Myra's part at making some sort of knitted face warmer; it went over Bane's mask, instantly making it less threatening and more socially acceptable and maybe even slightly goofy looking. Once that was settled over his mask, she shoved a matching hazel green knitted cap firmly over his bald head to finish the matching pair. She took a step back to properly appraise her work.

"There….stunning! I made these for you! I picked the same color as your eyes. You're always keeping me warm, so I'd thought I'd return the favor!" Myra beamed with happiness that clearly radiated off of her.

Myra's knitting wasn't perfect; there were large chunky mistakes and gaping holes in some of the sections. The knitting chain was also irregular due to the varied tension of her yarn. Her eyes roamed over it, disregarding these blemishes and hoping he would too. She smiled up at him finally with a huge proud grin, but her smile faltered immediately when she saw his glazed eyes and non-responsiveness.

"I'm sorry…is it too ugly? Is it hurting you? You don't have to wear it if it's making you that uncomfortable…." Myra said sadly.

Bane just stared down at her for several moments before reaching both of his arms forward to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest in an affectionate embrace. Myra was confused but appreciated the warm hug, so she immediately wrapped her arms around his middle. Her eyes wandered around wide and confused for several more seconds, still not quite sure if he liked her attempts at making him some winter accessories.

"If you hate the color, I think I can make them in a different shade….?" Myra offered softly into his shoulder.

Bane's hold around her arms squeezed gently before he spoke.

"They're perfect. Thank you," Bane wheezed out with sincerity.

Myra's smile reclaimed her face, and she closed her eyes to bury it into his chest.

"I can make you a knitted jacket too maybe….?" Myra eased out after several more moments.

"Please don't," Bane wheezed out quickly, affectionately stroking the back of her head.

Myra's eyebrows furrowed in anger at his insinuation but allowed herself to be pacified by the gentle strokes of his hand behind her head that soothingly raked into her scalp. Bane began to sway his body with hers in a gesture meant to bask and nurture the feelings she inspired in him when he was around her or thinking of her.

Later on that evening, Bane had indicated interest in learning how to knit from Myra. Myra was absolutely ecstatic to show him, finding it incredibly amusing showing him how to knit considering his large meaty fingers and the intricacies of the craft. He was an extremely quick learner, however, and found the repetitive chaining motions to be soothing. Myra soon realized that he surpassed her in knitting competency after a few days of seeing the small projects he completed and showed her. Myra wanted to hate him for it but couldn't. She just figured she was 'that good' at teaching him.

When Bane went to stand watch over the reformed courthouse that was overseen by Dr. Crane, he would make sure to have a knitting needle and yarn with him to work on the project he started as he observed the justice being handed down by Dr. Crane which of course either resulted in death or exile. He found the added task of idly knitting while standing watch of these trials made them considerably more tolerable to observe.

* * *

Bane and Myra were making use of the indoor home theater system. Bane had reluctantly allowed Myra to choose the movie they would watch, and immediately began regretting it after she announced they would be watching "The Princess Bride". He practically groaned in annoyance when she announced the title.

"You _clearly _have never seen 'The Princess Bride,'" Myra balked at him, unamused by his reaction.

"Of course I haven't watched your 'Princess' movie," Bane retorted, annoyed.

Myra's eyes grew large, and somewhat enraged, but also showed excitement knowing he didn't know what the movie actually contained.

"This movie isn't just about "Princesses", good sir. It has _pirates, _and _sword fighting, _and _TORTURE,"_ she emphasized the word 'torture', knowing Bane would appreciate that word. Bane's annoyed expression did soften somewhat, and he even turned to her in vague interest. He gave out a grunt, settling in his seat.

After the movie started, Bane turned towards Myra after seeing her leaning forward in her seat, her eyes glazed over at the sequence involving Wesley and Buttercup, clearly emotionally affected by this scene and the music.

"Nothing gave Buttercup as much pleasure as ordering Wesley around," the narrator of the story said.

Bane grunted out a snort.

"…you two share common similarities," he snarked.

Myra's eyes transitioned from soft and emotional to heated anger as she turned at him, snapping.

"_SHHHH. QUIET,_" she fumed, before turning back to watch the scene, her eyes transitioning back into dewy calm.

"Farmboy. Fill these with water," Buttercup asked Wesley in the movie.

'As you wish," Wesley responded.

The movie continued. "That day, she was amazed to discover that when he said 'As you wish', what he meant was 'I love you'" the narrator explained.

"And even more amazing was the day she realized she truly loved him back," the narration with the movie finished before transitioning into the two main characters kissing.

Bane snapped his head when he saw Myra let out a loud sigh through her mouth, her eyes glazed over as she watched the movie. He continued to stare at her before he turned his focus back onto the movie minutes later once her emotional reaction had ebbed.

That night well after the movie had ended and they had made their way back to their respective room and were asleep in bed, Myra began to fidget, indicating she needed something. Bane woke up, turned towards her and gave her his customary sweep of the forehead to check her temperature before asking her if she was all right. Myra lazily stared up at him, sleepy, groaning somewhat before opening her eyes to look at him before summarily closing them.

"Can you get me some water?" she asked tiredly.

Instead of immediately getting up and fetching her a glass of water, he continued to stare down at her. Myra's eyes shot open when she felt a hand cup her cheek. She looked up to see Bane staring right down at her.

"As you wish," he answered huskily before removing himself from the bed to get her a glass of water. To say that Myra looked absolutely shell shocked and dumbfounded would be an understatement.

When Bane returned with her water in his hand and leaned down to hand it to her, he was immediately assaulted by Myra who jumped up at him with a koala-like hug that caused the glass of water to fly out of his hand and spill all over the bed. He was then assaulted with a myriad of affectionate kisses and strokes from Myra until he became exhausted from standing and holding her, falling down into the bed where she continued her 'vicious' assault for several hours into the night.

* * *

The following day, it was back to business. Myra even resumed her duties as honorary 'inventory checker', though she was generally escorted by Bane during these instances. She met up with him after she woke up to go over the inventory sheet he had left for her at her bedside table. They rendezvoused in the first-floor lobby, where Bane then proceeded to take her to a more isolated part of the building so they could talk about the contents of the inventory sheet in relative privacy.

Myra was following Bane as he led her down a hallway, making comments to her while she held the clipboard in her arm with a pen in the other hand as she circled and checked the inventory sheet. Her attention was focused on the spreadsheet, but she looked up, startled, when she saw a blur. A man garbed in military clothing indicating he was one of Bane's men -or disguised as such- was holding a large metal object. When the man reeled his arm back to swing the metal object towards Myra and Bane, Bane instinctively put his hand out and pushed Myra out of the way. This caused Bane to receive a full blow to the face from the large heavy metal object.

The metal object had scraped across Bane's mask, causing an explosion of compressed air sputtering into the air. Bane immediately fell to his knees, his eyes watering at the sudden influx of pain and disorientation he must have felt. The man looked down at Bane, clenching the metal object in his hand, swinging it back to get ready to land another blow to Bane's head.

Myra felt her body reacting before her mind did; she dropped her clipboard and pen and launched herself at the man from behind, wrapping her arms around his neck in an attempt to incapacitate him and get him away from Bane. He dropped the metal object when he felt Myra attach herself to his back.

The size difference between her and the man was obvious; he reeled, reached back, and flung her bodily away from him with one swift motion. As Myra tumbled on the floor, she looked back and saw the man staring down at Bane as if deciding what he was going to do, now that the mighty had fallen. He turned towards the fallen metal weapon, bending down to pick it up again.

Without thinking, Myra stumbled back up and launched herself back in his direction. He reached out, anticipating the onslaught, and held her by her arms. Myra bent her head down and bit him strongly against the arm that held her, drawing blood. He growled and shouted, striking her hard against the face before drawing his leg back and kicking her away from him like a football.

Myra went flying back from the force of his kick into her chest, feeling the wind get knocked out of her. She lay on her back for only a brief second, reaching around with her hands on the floor in a move to leverage herself up. Her hand suddenly felt the physical shape of a pen that she had dropped moments earlier. _YES. _

She snatched it, pushed herself back up, and with renewed vigor, launched herself one last time at the man. He seemed to be expecting another feeble attempt from her and grabbed her easily by the throat just as she was on him. He began to squeeze.

Myra saw stars skipping across her vision as oxygen to her brain was immediately depleted. She choked out, struggling, almost forgetting what she had intended to do. She felt the tactile shape of the pen in her hand as it began slipping through her fingers as she felt her strength quickly dissipating. With the last bit of energy, she pushed herself just slightly more forward to him. As she did this, she brought her arm back and stabbed the pen right into the side of his neck.

He continued to hold her around the throat, though his other hand immediately jutted up to the object that was penetrating out the side of his neck. Before he could stop her, she pulled it out and stabbed him again at the front next to his Adam's apple. He let go of her, and Myra could hear guttural sounds that very clearly indicated she had punctured his windpipe; he was slowly drowning in his own blood.

She backed away from him quickly as he started swinging and grasping at her with his arms in a disoriented fashion. He fell down after making several steps in her direction. He began choking, sputtering, but then suddenly stopped as his body stilled.

Myra quickly rushed to Bane, who was also on the ground and was feebly touching his mask with his fingertips, dazed and looking unwell. She knelt down next to him and hoisted his head up into her kneeling lap, trying to force his attention to her.

"_What do I do_? Tell me what to do…" she whispered out, trying to calm him down by stroking the side of her palm against his face, hoping he couldn't see or detect the sheer panic and frustration she was feeling.

Bane didn't respond, but his fingertips continued to move and grip at the small canisters that lined his mask. Myra's eyes turned to focus on his hands, seeing his feeble attempts at reconnecting the cannisters into the valve array lines. Myra moved her fingers and fumbled briefly before reconnecting one, two, and then a third canister that got dislodged from the assault. She had considerable difficulty with the last one because the thread lines appeared to have been bent from the force of the metal object shearing across it from the blow.

Myra watched as the strained and rapid breathing of Bane slowly eased into steady calmer breaths as the effects of the medicine slowly got reintegrated into his system. He closed his eyes to clear the moisture, and then slowly opened his eyes with renewed focus. He finally moved his eyes to focus on hers. Myra had maintained her focus on him expectantly. He reached up a hand and touched the side of her cheek delicately, grazing his thumb over her eye almost as if in an attempt to wipe away the worry that he must have seen staring down at him. Myra brought a hand up and covered his hand with hers, leaning into the weight of his hand as she continued to stare down at him, flexing her body further over him protectively as his head remained nestled in her lap. She used her other hand to lightly massage his upper torso as if making attempts to guide him into a slower and more relaxed breathing pattern.

After lying on his back with his head comfortably nestled in Myra's lap for several minutes, Bane eventually dislodged his hand from Myra's cheek and eased himself forward and off of the ground, lifting himself up into a standing position. His eyes immediately turned and fixated to look at the man with a pen sticking out of his neck. He turned to look at Myra, very clearly impressed, extremely thankful, with a hint of shock.

Myra looked away awkwardly, shyly, her eyes averting away.

"You told me….to stab at the neck…." Myra mumbled almost shamefully, embarrassed.

Bane was confused for a moment, searching her face, before realization spread across his features. _The defense lessons. _One of the first things that Bane had instilled into Myra, one of the very first things that he had verbally instructed her, was to stab an assailant with any sharp object that she had at her disposal and if at all possible to go for the neck.

Seeing that Myra's attention was very clearly on the ground as she processed the events, Bane moved towards the dead body and knelt down and immediately began rummaging in his pockets. He found a mobile phone and stood up as he searched the contents of the device. Bane apparently found a number on the phone he felt was worth dialing, because Myra looked up and saw Bane press a button on the phone and brought it to his ear, awaiting someone on the other end to pick up. He only had to wait for two rings before someone answered on the other end.

"Did you do it? Did you get him? … Officer Jones? Are you there? Should we come extract you?" someone on the other end said in a rush.

Bane ended the phone conversation with a push of the button. He pocketed the device with the clear intent of using it to help 'smoke out the vermin' at a later time. His eyes turned to Myra, who he knew was going to have questions about the interaction.

"The Gotham P.D. at their finest," was his simple reply as he stared down at the dead body.

Bane walked towards Myra, confusion still written on her face, and knelt down, taking her face into his hands and analyzing it. Her hair looked like a mad scientist's; disheveled, scraggly, a rat's nest. His eyes fixated on the large bruise blossoming on her cheek from the blow she received from the man. Bane's thumb traced it delicately before he focused on her eyes.

"Did he hurt you elsewhere?" he asked with concern.

Myra searched his eyes, still wanting more of an explanation about the man she just killed. _Did I just help…kill another police officer? I'm going to hell. _

"He kicked me pretty hard…I'm going to have a huge footprint bruise on my chest and I'll probably be sore for a while…he also was unsuccessful at choking me…." Myra said, bringing a hand up to graze over the sensitive spot where she got kicked as well as rubbing at her neck. She also looked down and fixated at all of the blood splatter and smears coating her arms and hands from her attack.

Bane furrowed his brows, the expelled breaths from his mask being blown directly into Myra's forehead. He eventually helped her up into a standing position. She brought a hand to her back and groaned from her body being tossed and kicked around like a soccer ball.

Before Myra could react, Bane turned towards her and encapsulated her body into a firm hug, bringing a hand up to the back of her head to ease her head fully under his chin so that she could fit perfectly into his body and fill all available negative space. Myra reacted by bringing her hands up in front of her to curl against his chest, letting out a contented sigh. And then in a total shift, she started bawling.

Bane clearly had the foresight to know that Myra was on the verge of breaking down despite her not giving off any visible physical indicators, now that the danger was over and she had a chance to process her actions and the events that transpired; her body very clearly went into 'defense mode', forcing her to be strong until it sensed she could breath and relax. The magnitude of what she did, and what she was about to lose finally caught up to her like a slap in the face.

Bane held her, letting her expel her emotions against his chest until she finally settled and stirred. He brought his hands up to hold her by the shoulders, leaning back to analyze her face.

"I believe you deserve a day off for good behavior," Bane joked at her, stroking the wet strands of hair that had plastered themselves against the side of her cheek. "Let's go back upstairs, shall we?"

Myra simply nodded, rubbing her runny nose with her hand before turning back towards the exit. When she started walking, it was obvious she had taken quite the physical toll; she walked like she was tip-toing on eggshells. Bane observed her for several moments, upset with himself for not being of clear mind to witness the altercation, but also upset that things could have spiraled even more out of control with both of them dead simply because of his handicap. He bent down and picked her up after it was obvious it was uncomfortable for her to walk. She didn't protest.

As soon as they made it to the lobby level, curious eyes turned towards them at the spectacle of Bane carrying Myra in his arms. Myra turned her head inward to focus on his chest, her cheeks flaming at the unwanted attention. Bane, of course, could care less. He marched past the sea of people before making it to the elevators, directing her toe to push the 'up' button, causing her to smile at his hands-free approach.

Once upstairs and safely back into the master suite, Bane settled her in a sitting position on the bed.

"Wait here, please," he requested, before stalking to the bathroom.

Myra heard the large luxury bath being run with water. She waited several moments more before Bane emerged, grabbing her by the hand and directing her to the bathroom. Bane helped her remove her blood-stained clothing along with the rest before holding her hand for support as he guided her to step into the bathtub, which she complied.

She settled into the comfortably hot water, turning her head to the side to observe Bane, who went and fetched some soap and cleaning items to help her scrub any remnants of blood off of her. He fills a large cup with water, positioning it over her head.

"Lean back," Bane says, holding the cup.

"I can do it…" Myra mumbles, reaching up to grab the cup from his hand.

Bane swats her hand away.

"Lean back," he repeated firmly. An order.

Myra gives out a loud annoyed sigh, tilting her head fully so he can pour the water into her hair. During this process, her neck became fully exposed to him. Bane's eyes dart to the fingered bruising that started to show around her neck, concerned and amazed that she was able to complete her task with the pen in the man's neck considering the severity of the bruising; Bane figured if the man had held onto her for just a second or even a half second longer, she would have passed out. He continued to eye them as he began pouring water onto Myra's hair.

After pouring water into her hair, he uses his fingers to drip water down her back while Myra began to idly scrub the blood from her forearms. Her expression wasn't one of disgust or regret; on the contrary. Her lids half covered her eyes as she had a calmed, almost content and relaxed expression on her face as she removed the remnants of blood from her arms. Bane could almost even detect a soft hum coming through her lips. Her reaction to the events that just unfolded were a stark contrast to a vaguely similar series of events that had happened months prior involving the death of other Gotham police officers. Bane wasn't sure if he should be concerned or proud of her evolved mental state and handling of traumatic situations.

Myra, of course, didn't want to kill anyone. However, she found herself thankful and relieved at how things ended. She felt like she was washing away her anxiety and regret into the water with every scrub to her arm that was still slightly coated with blood.

Bane used his hands to massage her scalp, running his fingers through her wet hair and around her face to gently rub her skin. Myra wasn't sure, however, if he was intentionally being clumsy on a few instances as several of his fingers very clearly sheared across her face and threatened to plunge up her nose. She would open her eyes, startled, and then close them after he resumed the more calming strokes. She gave him the benefit of the doubt since he very clearly couldn't see her face since she was facing forward away from him. When he did it again, though, she was convinced he was doing it to tease her and get a rise out of her.

After several moments of watching Myra idly humming and scrubbing her body, Bane stood up. Myra turned to look at him when she noticed he was removing his clothing. She gawked at him when she then realized his intention was to fit into the bathtub with her.

"_Noo…_you're too big. You're not going to fit," Myra complained, eyeing him again, and then at the available space in the bathtub.

Bane was already stepping into the bathtub, coaxing her to move forward so could settle behind her.

"You never voiced a complaint about that attribute before," he teased.

Myra's expression changed into annoyance when she realized he was making a penis-size joke. She glared at him as he shoved her forward. She was right, of course; he was a tad bit too large for the bathtub. He compromised by draping one of his legs over the edge of the tub, which allowed him to pull Myra back up against his chest. Myra complied, leaning the back of her head against his chest as she felt him take hold of her arms and aid her in the cleansing and scrubbing process of blood.

Myra's eyelids fell over her eyes contentedly from the combination of driblets of water as well as the strokes that Bane was giving her skin while he cleansed her body. She brought her foot up against his, curling her toes over his. She grinned deeply when he responded several moments later by reciprocating the gesture with his own toes.

Myra figured she must have been properly cleaned when she felt Bane push her forward from his chest, get up and out of the tub, and reach in and assist her with getting up as well. He wrapped her up like a burrito in a towel, ignoring his own wetness, as he picked her up and walked her back to the bedroom. As he made his way, he kept his gaze down and focused on hers. Myra's face turned red at the unwavering attention he seemed to have on her. He eased her down onto the bed comfortably, wiping his hand over her forehead.

"I'll be right back. Stay here, please," he said simply.

Myra nodded, knowing he undoubtedly had to attend to the dead body as well as the possibility of other infiltrators in his presence. Myra watched as Bane put on his clothes and exited.

Bane came back hours later after attending to the business of the dead body and infiltration. He also slid a shoe-size box under his bed, which Myra vaguely captured out of the corner of her eye. She was too tired and exhausted to ask him what it was. She instead stayed wrapped in blankets as she watched him go to the bathroom to prepare for bed.

When she woke up the following morning, she saw that Bane was also still in bed with his body half wrapped over and around hers. She smiled; very rarely was blessed with waking up in such a position with Bane still in bed. He was such an early riser with things to do, that he was long gone before she even started waking up. When he felt Myra stirring, he opened his eyes and squeezed his arms around her to bring her in closer, letting out a tired sigh, before releasing her. He then rolled himself back away from her and brought his arm down to his side of the bed to reach under the bed and retrieve something.

Myra watched with curiosity as he swung a beautifully wrapped package up and around to settle in her lap.

"What? A present? For me?" Myra asked with surprise. She never got presents like this from him, wrapped.

Bane simply nodded, reclining back into bed to watch her open it.

Myra tore into the shoe-box size gift in excitement. When she fully opened it and peeled the last piece of wrapping paper away, her face fell in disappointment.

It was a giant box of pens.

Myra stared down at, letting out a sigh.

And then she started laughing, covering her face with her hand at the ridiculousness of it.

Bane simply stared at her, lying on his side and enjoying the spectacle with an indicator of a grin on his face.

Myra put the box down on her nightstand after letting herself laugh for a solid minute, turning towards him as if exasperated and put-out.

"What the heck am I going to do with a box of pens? You couldn't think of anything better for saving your life?" she asked.

"No," Bane simply said.

Myra let out a seemingly irritated sigh before launching herself into him and curling up against his chest. She buried her face into his chest, letting her disheveled unevenly dried hair cover her like a canopy and she adjusted herself into a comfortable lounging and napping position. She had half-anticipated Bane to get up after seeing her open her gift. With that task complete, he simply stayed next to her as she went back to sleep in a light nap. He kept his body over and around her until she finally decided to get out of bed, which wasn't until hours later and nearing noon. She couldn't recall a time ever when he had stayed in bed with her for so long. She enjoyed it beyond words.

* * *

The several hours later when Myra woke up again she tilted her head back, rousing herself from sleep and saw Bane was still next to her, his eyes opened and looked down at her with half-lidded eyes. She smiled, curling her hand against his waist affectionately as she eyed him.

"What…. Still in bed? You're getting so lazy…. here I am doing all the work, protecting you – with flimsy, embarrassing tools not to mention... Pretty soon I'll wonder why I even keep you around…" she crooned at him, wondering how she was even successful at making the act of killing someone into something she was proud of. She was surprised at the ease in which she delivered it; clearly, she was past her unease about the event.

Bane brought a hand up and stroked the side of her face as he continued to stare down at her, unaffected by her insinuations and jest.

"Oh, I'm quite sure you'll find reasons to keep me around," Bane purred through his mask.

Myra's smile deepened at the suggestiveness of his statement, loving his playful attitude when he let it show. She leaned and arched herself into his body, squeezing the flesh at his waist with her hand before grabbing the elastic band of his briefs and pulling it back and letting it go to audibly snap against his skin.

"Oh? Like what?" she asked teasingly, searching his face.

Bane blinked his eyes in a very slow, relaxed, and thoughtful manner at her as his hand began raking through the hair behind her ear.

"I get the inclination that you're rather be shown than told…." Bane huffed out softly, his eyes flickering to her lips just briefly before returning his gaze back up to her eyes.

Myra moved her hand up to rest on his cheek, mirroring the strokes and touches he was giving her that felt so good.

"Yes, but….don't you have somewhere to be? You're always so busy this time of day…." Myra murmured, longing for him to stay but also understood his time commitments.

"That can wait" Bane breathed out simply, as he eased himself closer to her.

* * *

The following day, Bane alerted Talia to the infiltration of the Gotham P.D. over the phone.

"What happened?" Talia says over the phone, clearly concerned. Her plan was so close to coming to fruition; any chink in the chain now could still result in a domino effect of failure. Bane was necessary.

"Myra and I were attacked by an undercover police officer," Bane said simply.

Talia's eyes slowly narrowed, her look turning smug. Bane, of course, couldn't see her face but he could hint at her smugness based on the delivery of the next words out of her mouth.

"Was she….killed?" Talia inquired. It was very obvious what kind of answer Talia was hoping Bane would give her.

"No," Bane said simply.

Talia's face fell in disappointment.

"How fortunate," Talia breathed, though based on the manner of her tone she thought quite the opposite.

Talia, of course, also couldn't see Bane's fist that was shaking as he held himself back from punching a hole through the wall.

* * *

_**Author: What other kind of text messages do you think Myra sends Bane throughout the day? I'd love to hear your ideas! Also, don't forget to review **_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10**_

_**Author: Thank you *SOOOOO MUCH* Kai for your amazingly kind review. When I read it, I was like "OMG. YES. -teary eyed- THANK YOU". Carmen, thank YOU for your review! I'm glad you like the domestic side stories. **__** I do too! I'm going to be sad when things suddenly turn…..ANGSTY. Nameless Guest reviewer: I appreciate you as well. I'm glad you found Bane's poutiness as endearing as I did. Reviews *REALLY* make my day. I love them. So, good job making my day you guys :) **_

_**I also *PROMISE* there is a direct correlation between how fast I publish another chapter, and feedback/reviews I get. Your reviews let me know you are reading it and even enjoy it! Even if you don't enjoy it, I'd love to know why! So if you were like….just absolutely anxious to want the next chapter to come out, you could feasibly clog my review section with nonsense. Or if you don't want to write a proper review, you could just review with a simple letter. Like "X". I'd know that you appreciate the story but are too lazy to write any sort of substantial review (I 'totally' understand that laziness. I'm all about that life).**_

_**I've really enjoyed writing this story; I love inserting humor into it sporadically. Bane is a *TEASE*. Go back and watch the movie. It's subtle, but it's there. Everything he does is a TEASE. He can't be that much of a tease without also being appreciative of humor. I like highlighting that aspect of his personality when appropriate. Anyways, enjoy! **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 3 Months

With the city in turmoil and general anarchy and chaos reigning supreme, some of that lifestyle slowly made its way into the penthouse building. Specifically, the 'lobby level'. This particular level of the penthouse building became the hot spot for prostitutes hoping to catch the eyes of one of Bane's men and sometimes Bane himself as Bane's men idled around waiting for their next orders. If Bane were king, and Myra were his queen, the lobby level would have been their court where all of their subjects congregated and festered.

It wasn't a terrible plan for the prostitutes to slowly inhabit the lobby level; most of the men under Bane's command had assumed, to some extent, that when the neutron bomb went off that they would die. This led them into seeking the comfort of a female, hoping to capture one last touch of pleasure before the inevitable. The prostitutes didn't mind because it meant a warm bed, safety, and a payment from the stash of riches that Bane's army had amassed from the social elite they helped pilfer.

Myra _loathed _the lobby level. She hated seeing the throng of women in revealing clothes with painted faces and fancy hairdos trying to seduce Bane and his men. She especially hated seeing the men sometimes grab or abuse the women in the open with no sense of justice or system of punishment in place. She despised the graffiti and filth that had piled up on the floor, including drug paraphernalia and used condoms. She also hated the lobby level because she was such a stark contrast to these women; Myra dressed with comfort in mind, never wore make-up, barely did anything with her hair, and absolutely detested any sort of attention directed towards her. She also was awkward; she didn't walk seductively, didn't flirt, and could sometimes be interpreted as having a 'resting bitch face' if having to navigate through the throngs of prostitute and men on the lobby level. Once in a while she would also get grabbed accidentally or a prostitute would even try and engage in some type of conversation, which she equally loathed.

When she got grabbed, it was usually by a soldier mistaking her for a prostitute. How they made that mistake was beyond Myra, but as soon as they grabbed her by the arm to flip her towards them to pull her closer and get her attention, realization would flood their face at the very serious mistake they made. All Myra had to do was furrow her brows at whoever grabbed her, and they would release her arm as if her arm had burned them like a hot stove top before they would quickly retreat in hopes of blending into the other soldiers before anyone noticed their mistake.

Myra was passing one group of idle, over-made-up prostitutes who were very obviously giving Myra a head-to-toe judgmental look-over as she ambled by. Myra simply sighed and ignored them, making her way across the room. She stopped in her tracks, however, after realizing she forgot her inventory checklist upstairs. She turned herself around to make her way back across the lobby level courtyard when she heard the prostitutes she had just pass talking, very obviously talking about her.

"She doesn't even try," one said.

"Doesn't he want something…else? More interesting?" another one said.

"It wouldn't be hard to get him to 'trade-up'. Especially if the competition is so pathetic. I bet the payment he would give would be to die for. She doesn't look like she is very adventurous; I bet he likes adventurous," one said with a suggestive wink.

"He doesn't know what he's missing. He'd kick her out as soon as one of us had a chance at him, crown a new queen if you know what I mean. Imagine that sort of privilege, being the boss's bitch," one said.

They all startled giggling amongst themselves.

Myra furrowed her brows, stopping before she got close enough to them where they would notice her. _Boss's bitch. Ugh. Gross. _They were also clearly insinuating that Bane was so flippant with his choice, as if all they needed to do was actually get his attention and it was game over for Myra. As she was pondering this, she saw one of the prostitutes nudge the leader of the small huddle of gossiping prostitutes.

"Look! Here he comes. _Here's your chance," o_ne said, giggling, nudging the leader forward towards Bane's direction.

Myra turned her attention to where the prostitutes were looking. Bane had entered the lobby level and was walking with determined strides across the courtyard. Myra inexplicably eased herself backwards into a better hiding spot, wanting to see this play out with her curiosity at maximum capacity.

Myra watched as the leader prostitute walked towards Bane, swinging her hips from side to side in a sensual manner. She managed to approach Bane from the front, but Bane very clearly either ignored her or didn't notice her. She then proceeded to follow him at his back shoulder. She quickly brought a hand up and started to lightly stroke a hand from his forearm up his bicep suggestively.

Bane suddenly stopped and snapped his head to the hand on his arm and then to the face of the owner of that hand. Myra saw him look her over as if quickly determining who is invading his personal space and whether they fall into the category of acceptable individuals granted access to that special privilege. The prostitute interpreted his gaze as admiration and interest, so she quickly leaned into him and let her hands continue to roam over his body as she puckered her painted lips up at him.

Without missing a beat, Bane reached up and bodily shoved her away from him aggressively. This of course sent her sprawling on her behind a good 20 feet across the marble floor, undoubtedly resulting in rug burn, bruising, and streak marks on her half-covered butt. She apparently was not a 'special access' card holder. Bane resumed his trajectory back across the courtyard, dismissing and ignoring the prostitute.

Myra brought a hand up to her mouth to muffle the burst of laughter. While she knew she should feel sorry for the prostitute, she also knew that the prostitute should be lucky that was all Bane did to her.

Later that evening, when Bane entered their master suite, Myra approached him from behind and attempted to replicate the gentle strokes on his forearm up to his bicep in a manner similar to the one she saw the prostitute try out. Bane's head snapped to the hand on his arm and then to Myra's face, going through the same procedure of identifying the hand at his arm as well as analyzing the owner of that hand and determining if they belonged to someone who was allowed access.

After making his conclusion, he reached up and curled a hand behind her neck to give it an affectionate squeeze before using his strength to draw her in closer against his body; 'his personal space' now becoming 'their personal space'. Myra responded willingly, planting her cheek against his military vest and curling her arms around his middle as he continued to rub the back of her neck soothingly with his other hand rubbing up and down her arm as if giving her a gentle massage. She smiled deeply into his chest, closing her eyes. _Boss's bitch. Ugh. Fine._

* * *

Following the 'neck stabbing' ordeal, Bane thought it would be good to re-evaluate Myra in terms of bringing back some type of defense – or even _offensive_ – lessons into her daily regime. While it was true they didn't get very far, only touching basic concepts that would provide her with enough tools to defend herself, her handling of the man who had attempted to kill Bane made him realize that he had overlooked a considerable amount of potential in Myra; perhaps bypassing lessons or techniques that could further aid her – _and him_ _ – _in the future.

He instructed Myra to meet him in the yoga studio that was adjacent to the workout room he used for body building. When she rounded the corner and saw him standing there expectantly, she knew what that look meant. She immediately turned around to exit. Bane rushed towards her and stopped her by grabbing her by the arm.

"Noooo….." she pouted.

"Yessss…." Bane teased, mocking her by matching her pout and tone.

"I don't want to learn anything," she said simply.

"But you utilized the skills that I had taught you so brilliantly just a few days prior; why would you deny yourself the chance at enhancing and adding to that skill set?" Bane said, amused.

Myra glowered at him.

"How would you know whether I utilized those skills so brilliantly? You decided that was the perfect time to take a nap, so you weren't even up to see me do anything," she half-fumed, half-teased.

"Well, one clear indicator is that I'm not dead. And neither are you," Bane reasoned, transitioning from his teasing tone to more of a serious one.

Myra continued to glower.

"I don't want to hurt people. Consider that instance a 'freebie'," she stated grumpily. She made a turn to try and exit again. Bane's hold on her arm stopped her.

"Come now. I'm not asking you to hurt or kill anyone," Bane reasoned.

Myra turned towards him sharply, glowering with furrowed brows, entirely unconvinced by his words. _Why else would he be teaching me if he didn't want me to hurt or kill people?_

"I thought it was SELF defense lessons. Not 'you' defense lessons," she snapped.

Bane smiled at her display.

"I'm simply giving you the opportunity to better protect yourself – _myself _ \- from further instances that could occur, in the very unlikely event that they do. Consider this very special training for my personal bodyguard," he joked, obviously finding the prospect of Myra as his personal bodyguard hilarious, though there was a hint of truth to it. She had saved him, there was no doubt about that albeit by a small margin. A very _small _margin. He wanted to make sure that margin wasn't so sliver-thin in the unlikely event she was forced to face another similar encounter.

Myra worked her lips into a fine line, further narrowing her brows.

"I want to make sure you don't hurt yourself the next time you are in that kind of situation," he confessed.

Myra gave him a look that indicated she very well better _not _be in a situation like that again. Ever.

Bane sighed, resting his hands on both of her shoulders and looking down at her.

"Let's compromise. If you do this for me, then I will do something for you. Name it," he said simply.

Myra's eyes lit up. Bane almost immediately regretted the offer, seeing her vibrant imagination radiating through her eyes straight at him. She worked her lips for what seemed like eternity before she settled on a request.

"After we're done here in Gotham, can we go on a trip? Somewhere secluded? Just the two of us?" Myra asked excitedly.

Myra's request affected him more than he was prepared for. He, of course, had no plans beyond Gotham. He had not divulged his plans to her regarding the sacrifice of his own life he intended to make when the bomb went off. He knew that would change their dynamic considerably if she was privy to that information, and he didn't want her to become sad, uncomfortable, or morose. She was the one vibrant and happy constant in his life that didn't bring him sadness, pain, or misery. She was a much-appreciated comfort to him as the countdown progressed and the world around him digressed into chaos, panic, and hell.

Myra saw a hint of sadness seep into Bane's eyes before it was immediately wiped away before she could fully glimpse it, making her wonder if she had even seen it at all.

"Deal," he said simply.

* * *

Myra was sitting on the floor cross-legged working on a floor in the master suite on a knitting craft project when Bane slid into the room. His arm crossed his body to rest a hand on his shoulder, with the other arm swinging in a circular motion at the ball joint as if in an attempt to ease some sort of muscle tension.

Myra lifted her head back at him curiously, dropping her project on the floor and hopping up to stand next to him.

"Can I help you with something? Are you hurt?" Myra asked with mild concern and curiosity.

Bane's eyes shifted to hers in slight irritation, clearly not wanting to explain himself. While he was able to get away with not having to explain himself with most everyone else in his life, he knew he couldn't get away with that approach with Myra. She was far too curious, persistent, and stubborn and didn't have the overhanging fear of death that came with getting on Bane's bad side from overstepping one's place. She blatantly crossed that line long ago, almost arrogantly so.

"No. My muscles are just tense. They get that way when…." He let his words slip into silence, letting Myra make her own conclusions about when his muscles became tensed and overworked. _Killing. Crushing. Choking. _

Myra brought her hands up to the shoulder that seemed to be irritating him, trying her own hand at easing his muscles.

"Do you want me to try and massage them for you? I'm no masseuse, but I'll give it a shot?" Myra asked tentatively, clearly wanting to be helpful and ease any discomfort Bane seemed to be experiencing.

Bane eyed her. He disliked people touching and massaging his muscles, particularly his shoulders and back because of his spinal injury. If they were too aggressive it could become extremely painful and could cause further injury. He looked her over from head to toe, realizing she wasn't that strong so that possibility was out of the question. He nodded reluctantly, maintaining his gaze on her to indicate he was waiting for her to direct him where to go.

Myra smiled, looking around quickly. At first, she figured the floor would be adequate, but figured Bane would probably be more comfortable lying prone on the bed. She grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom and pointed to it.

"Just lie down there. Tell me if I'm hurting you," she said, stepping back and waiting for him to position himself.

Bane took off his vest armor, brace, and long-sleeve t-shirt before crawling onto the bed. He dropped his body onto the bed to lay prone, tilting his head to the side so that his cheek was comfortable rested against a pillow. He closed his eyes as he waited for Myra to do her work.

Myra eased herself onto the bed next to him, not quite sure if she should stand off to the side and massage him, or if she should kneel next to his body on the bed. She settled on scooting herself up and swinging a leg over him to straddle him, easing herself slowly to sit on his lower back just above his rump. She bent her knees, pushing them up against his side and tried to transfer some of her weight into her legs and knees.

"…does that hurt you? Is that too much weight on your back?" she asked.

"What weight?" he grunted with his eyes closed.

Myra gave him a deadpan look, apparently receiving her answer.

She scooted herself up a bit further to gain access to his upper back, which was where she perceived his discomfort was. She planted her fingers down onto his bare skin and simply started working on his muscles like she was rolling and teasing bread dough. She pushed some of her weight into her hands to try and have some level of impact in the tension and knots she was trying to release in his muscles.

"Does that hurt? Am I putting too much weight on you?" Myra asked, concerned after giving him several aggressive 'rolls' with the butt of her palm.

Bane responded by groaning from his mask. Myra's eyebrows drew together, ceasing her massaging immediately as she wasn't sure if his groaning was meant to indicate he was uncomfortable or pleased.

"Please don't stop," Bane said suddenly off to the side with his eyes closed, several seconds after she had ceased her activities. Myra grinned, resuming her task.

Myra's eyes roamed to the large protruding scar that ran from the base of his skull down his spine. The surgical stitching looked clumsy and scarred irregularly; she could only imagine the fumbling job that was performed internally. She frowned, doing her best to avoid that area knowing it was probably extremely sensitive.

While her original intention was simply to isolate the discomfort in his shoulder and upper arm on the side of his body he had physically shown to have discomfort, she worked his whole back and mirrored it to the other side. When she got to his lower back, she lifted and pushed herself back so that she was sitting on his thighs. Bane let out another groan when she eased out several various obvious knots in his lower back. She even gave his butt a firm massage, using extreme self-control and holding herself back from simply giving his butt a teasing spank. She kept moving herself down his body, getting his thighs, and then finally his calves. She had to ease herself off the bed and knelt by the bed while she did this, using her thumbs to dig into his muscles. She sat cross-legged on the floor as she massaged his feet and then his toes, tugging at each little digit before rubbing them all in unison.

It must have been at least an hour, if not two, since she started. She knew she was sweating mildly from the exertion, her hands feeling like they may have worked harder than she could ever recall. She stayed sitting on the floor, bringing her hands up to the edge of the bed and peered at him.

"All done," she said, in case it wasn't obvious based on the fact that she was no longer massaging him or touching him.

Bane's eyes eased open and he let out a huge exhale through his mask. He lay there prone for several minutes while he basked in the comfort of untensed muscles throughout his whole body. He eventually rolled onto his side and forced himself forward before swinging his legs off the bed to stand up. He stretched his body, letting out another groan; this groan didn't seem to be a groan that indicated he was feeling the results of sore muscles. This groan was the groan of relief and pleasure at feeling quite the opposite.

He turned his eyes towards Myra, who was still on the floor and was peaking at him almost bashfully waiting for his prognosis or critique of her work. He ambled over to her with slow methodical steps, relishing in the freshness and easing of his muscles, before he bent down quickly and scooped her up around the middle, pulling her up off of the floor and sandwiching her body between him and the bed.

Bane rubbed the side of his head affectionately against hers like a large lion rubbing his massive mane against his mate. Myra released a huge sigh from her chest from the apparent confirmation that he enjoyed her work, a lazy smile plastered on her lips as her head was forcibly jostled to the side from his aggressive affections. Bane's mask emitted soft sounds into her ear that were reminiscent of a large cat's rumbling purrs.

This wasn't the last time that Myra gave Bane a massage; she noticed a pattern, almost every couple of days, in which he would either strongly hint at muscle discomfort or he would simply lead her into the bedroom before launching himself face-forward onto the bed as a very clear indicator he wanted her to give him a massage.

Bane noticed an elevated capability in movement and a considerable ease in discomfort from the now routine massages Myra gave him, which of course helped him perform his duties and tasks more efficiently for the day. Myra felt like their relationship was slowly progressing into a symbiotic relationship, with the other individual providing things for the other that elevated their quality of life and living exponentially. Myra was happy and thankful for this extra ritual, since she felt that the things Bane did for her far exceeded the things she did for him; she wanted that balance to even out and this helped tip that scale just slightly closer to 'even Steven', though she doubted very much it would ever come to close. She felt like she was that little fish that swam at the belly of a massive shark, no danger to the shark itself, but basked in all that the shark could do for her while providing her protection and food and in return she made sure he was comfortable and didn't have gross parasites growing on his body.

* * *

Myra had noticed that several days of the month – specifically, when she was ovulating- that she found Bane just absolutely irresistible. Her preference in a partner had traditionally catered more towards the smaller and less threatening variety. However, things changed after Bane. She couldn't explain the desire for the masculine traits he seemed to exude paired with the aggressive personality he kept mostly tamed when he was around her.

She knew she was being hormonal, and that fact made it extremely difficult to concentrate on certain tasks. What were those certain tasks? Everything. _Everything _was difficult. Specifically, when Bane was within a certain proximity. Her body would immediately react when it sensed him walking down the hall towards the master suite entrance. Sometimes it was even when she _didn't _hear him and could simply smell the musky male smell of masculinity that dripped off of him.

When Bane entered the room, she could feel the hair at the back of her neck stick up and felt as if her lower body took control of her legs and wanted to start walking towards him in order to initiate the process of getting 'topped off' on Grade-A alpha sperm fuel to fulfil the pulsating biological need her body throbbed and ached for. It made her feel as if her sole purpose in life was to make babies. Lots of babies. Babies using Grade-A alpha sperm fuel from Bane, a perfect 'specimen' of a man her body seemed to think it couldn't get enough of. The thing was, though - she didn't _want _babies. She couldn't imagine anything more frightening in the world, particularly given the current climate and who the father would be. _A mercenary? A terrorist? A warlord? _

Myra also found these magnetic-like urges incredibly confusing considering the fact that she never had them this raw and powerful before. She had been in relationships before; she had _never _felt the need to randomly initiate an act of intercourse simply because there was some inner workings in her body softly whispering to her that there was an extremely capable, large, alpha male within proximity that would and could fulfill her body's needs and urges with no hesitation.

Sometimes she actively fought these urges, a few instances holding onto a chair, or even a desk, refusing to let herself be controlled by her body's primal inner workings. Myra was also not a fan of the concept that her sole purpose in life was to make babies. She felt as if her fulfillment in life would come from something else, something greater. She wanted to be a successful boss bitch businesswoman. Not just 'boss's bitch'.

However, the pull would be too much, especially if she allowed herself a quick glance in his direction as he strolled into the master suite. Like a strong magnet, if she released her hold on whatever anchor she was attached to, she could feel herself start gliding in his direction. At this point she knew she had no control of herself and had to relinquish to her own inner workings and let her body go do what it wanted to do as if it were as simple as driving up to a gas station and getting pumped full of gas and then driving off.

After engaging in their 'adult activity', Bane always had the impression he got whiplash, startled, confused, at these rapid 'attacks'. It was a literal occurrence of 'cumming and going', 'shooting and scooting', 'ejaculating and evacuating', 'jizzing and jetting' so quickly it caused his head to spin, her body up and off of him after he very clearly spent himself inside of her. She always looked reluctant, as if she would rather be doing something else. Bane found the stern look she gave him during these 'bouts', as if her furrowed intense gaze would urge him to expedite his release into her, to be hilarious.

Despite his lack of generally being around women on a regular basis, he knew a hormonal woman frustratingly driven by instinct with a singular intent on her mind when he saw one. He did what he could to accommodate her.

* * *

Myra had indicated one day to Bane in idle conversation her desire for a haircut, since her bangs had slowly started consuming her face; she could barely see through them and had to constantly push or clip them aside which wasn't her preference. Myra had assumed Bane wasn't paying attention to her, his face had been turned away and he had appeared to be focused or thinking about something else. It also wasn't an extremely important topic, so she didn't mind being idly ignored.

However, the next day Bane approached her with a motorcycle helmet in his hand. He was already wearing a helmet, and she at first wouldn't have recognized him if not for his size, the typical black leather coat with a waist-tie she saw him wearing frequently, and the saunter he tended to use when walking about as if he had difficulty maneuvering due to the bulk and mass of his muscles. Without explanation, he handed her the motorcycle helmet and walked towards the exit of the penthouse building leading out to the streets. Myra assumed she was meant to follow, so she did so while clutching the helmet between her hands. As they made their way outside, she saw a motorbike parked out front. Bane was strolling towards it casually and seated himself onto it comfortably before turning his helmeted head in her direction expectantly.

Myra's curiosity was piqued. She forced the helmet over her head and approached the motorbike hesitantly. Bane scooted himself up a minuscule of an inch along the leather seat as an indicator that she was supposed to mount herself up behind him. She did so reluctantly, and somewhat awkwardly, swinging her legs over it before settling her feet right behind his. She was acutely aware of the fact that the last time she was on a motorbike like this – _perhaps even this exact same one – _she was being kidnapped and taken away as a hostage from the Gotham Stock exchange. She scooted herself up against him before wrapping both of her arms around his waist, forcing herself to push these thoughts aside, deciding this scenario was much more comfortable and considerably less distressing. She let her heavy helmeted head plop forward against his back, angling it just slightly so she could direct a question up at him.

"Where are we going?" she shouted through the noise of Bane starting and revving up the motorcycle. Bane either didn't hear her question or ignored it, before squeezing the gas on the handle to propel them forward along the decimated streets of Gotham.

They maneuvered around and through some of the damage that had been caused by the explosions to the infrastructure of Gotham, which included the blowing up of the entrances to the sewers. This task was made significantly easier though considering their mobility on the motorbike.

Bane eventually stopped in front of a row of buildings, easing himself off and flipping the motorbike's kickstand. He started walking towards the entrance of a building without a word to Myra. Myra pulled herself off of the bike quickly after realizing they were at their destination, but not before looking up at the name of the small building that Bane was entering. It was an upscale hair salon for woman and appeared to be one of the few buildings that was still properly functioning and open. Bane did not seem like the typical clientele for such a place, so she could only imagine they must be here for her benefit. She rushed in after him.

When she entered, Bane motioned her towards the service counter without a word before he made his way over to the guest seating area. He eased himself down comfortably while reaching over to a table to grab a magazine, which he began sifting through idly. He never took his helmet off. Myra took her own helmet off, however, and placed it on the chair next to Bane before making her way to the service counter.

Myra felt awkward as she talked to the individual behind the counter. They apparently had an appointment for her – or rather, for a woman named 'Mildred'- but were given no indicator for what kind of appointment she wanted; whether it was a haircut, hair dye, full foil, or a blow-out. Myra pondered her options, unsure since she had never been to an upscale hair salon before, but inevitably decided on a full haircut with a foil; she felt motivated to try something new and adventurous.

Myra was shown and seated in the salon chair. Her hair stylist wrapped the styling bib over her body and buttoned it at the back of her neck, but she gave off a look that indicated she was very clearly confused and skeptical of the large man reading magazines through a dark motorcycle helmet lens in the guest seating lounge area. The look she was gave very clearly indicated she was hoping for some sort of explanation from Myra for his behavior.

"He, uh…he's shy around women," Myra blurted out stupidly.

That seemed to ease and pacify the stylist considerably. Myra saw Bane's head ease up from the magazine he was reading just slightly and angled it in her direction. While she couldn't see his eyes or face through the tinted lens, she definitely knew he was giving her a 'look' from her choice of explanation. She looked back at him and gave him a huge teasing grin.

Doing a full haircut and a foil was not a quick service, and by the time Myra was done, two and a half hours had passed. She practically hopped towards Bane in excitement at her hair needs being tended to. Bane was still seated patiently in the guest seating area reading idly through various popular magazines before he slowly looked up at her after realizing she was done. Without a word, he set his magazine back down on the table and rose himself up and sauntered over to the service desk. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, which he thumbed through quickly to count a generous amount with a tip and deposited it onto the counter. He then ambled back outside to the motorbike without ever saying a word.

Myra grabbed her own helmet, which she reluctantly put back on due to the beautiful work that the stylist just performed, before practically skipping after Bane. When she settled herself onto the motorcycle behind him, the hold she had around his middle was just a little bit tighter than it had been before.

* * *

As the cold front slowly settled over Gotham, the penthouse building temperature almost plummeted overnight. Myra was freezing. She was wrapped up in a blanket, nestled on a lounge chair near the entrance to the master suite when she saw Bane enter. He seemed unphased by the cold; in fact, all he was wearing was a long-sleeve dark brown thermal sweater. Myra eyed him, jealous of the extraordinary heat his body naturally generated. She quickly got up from her seat, stalking him after he gave her a simple nod for a greeting as he made his way to the kitchen.

Bane gave her a suspicious glare when he saw her round on him and then follow him, dropping the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders along the way. He kept his head tilted so that he could peer at her from over his shoulder as he continued to amble to the kitchen. His eyes followed her as she sped up her pace and got in front of him, blocking his path. She grabbed the hem of his long-sleeve t-shirt at the waist suddenly, tugging it out away from his body, crouching her body down, and then quickly diving and burying her upper body up inside of it to sandwich herself up against his chest and the shirt material. Bane's eyes grew large at the odd display, but the crinkling around his eyes indicated he certainly appreciated the humor of it.

"What are you doing?" he inquired.

"Keeping warm," she said, slightly muffled from under the t-shirt fort, planting her cheek against his warm chest. From an outside observer, she probably looked like an amorphous blob or even an alien about to erupt from under Bane's chest under the fabric.

"Hmm. Well, I'm not sure how much I appreciate you stretching out my apparel…." Bane mused with slight irritation as he tried maneuvering her body in a way where he could continue walking, though he knew the attempt would be futile.

Myra's eyes flared sassily, though he of course couldn't see it.

"Oh? Well I'm not sure how much I appreciate you stretching out my-" she stopped abruptly, catching herself before finishing the crude joke and insinuation, amazed that the crass joke had even popped up in her head let alone fly out of her lips before she had a chance to properly filter herself.

Bane's ears perked up immediately, obviously intrigued.

"What was that? I don't believe I heard you properly," Bane mused with mild excitement.

Myra remained silent for several moments, adjusting her face so that her other cheek had a chance at capturing and absorbing warmth from his chest.

"Nothing," she muffled out.

"It didn't sound like nothing. It sounded as if you were voicing a complaint about something of yours that I appear to be carelessly stretching out," he sniped.

Bane felt Myra's fingers rub and pinch against his skin in a show of either mild nervousness or embarrassment. He then felt her start to writhe under his shirt as she made an attempt at retreating and escaping out from under his t-shirt to avoid having to finish her sentence. Bane stopped her before she had a chance to fully re-emerge from under his shirt.

"Oh no you don't. I would certainly appreciate being made aware of any grievances you appear to have against me, particularly if it concerns with 'stretching something out," Bane goaded, pulling his shirt down with his fists and trapping her.

Myra let out a huge sigh against his chest but remained silent after that – very clearly refusing to explain what it was she meant to say.

Bane waited, providing her ample opportunity to respond, before he moved his hands to her sides suddenly. Without warning, he began tickling her.

Myra started screaming, disoriented and unable to escape due to being entrapped under his shirt and the hands at her side. She tried pushing herself off and away from him, which of course only stretched his t-shirt out just slightly more before bouncing her back against his chest.

"_STOP. STOP. FINE. I'LL TELL YOU IF YOU STOP. OAF!" _she finally got out through uncomfortable laughter.

Bane eased his tickling, though he kept his hands on her waist as if to show her he was fully prepared to re-initiate his assault at the drop of a pin if she didn't comply. He could almost feel her working her mouth as she worked out the phrasing of what it was she was about to say.

"Go on. I don't have all day," Bane coaxed, seemingly enjoying her somewhat prudish and embarrassed mannerisms.

Myra let out another irritated sigh. Her irritation helped drive her words out, beyond caring about being embarrassed or crass at this point.

"You stretch my….you stretch out my….MY _VAGINA_. There. _HAPPY?!"_ she huffed out into his chest.

Bane most certainly found her statement incredibly delightful despite the implications of it as amusement took over his features. He lifted one hand that had been settled at her waist up to settle behind the lump where he knew her head.

"Not yet, I fear," he teased in a dark raspy seductive voice before reaching down and snatching her up off of the ground, keeping her encapsulated under his shirt as he marched to the bedroom.

When he made it to the edge of their bed, he reached down and pulled his shirt off which instantly freed Myra from within its confines. She didn't flee, however, but instead wrapped her arms around his middle, rested her chin on his chest and tilted her head back to stare up at him adoringly with a hint of mischief gleaming in her eyes. Bane maneuvered his head so he could gaze down at her and reciprocated mischief in his own eyes.

Bane reached forward behind her back, grabbing her shirt hem and yanking her shirt off with one clean stroke. Myra lifted her arms up in the air to aid him in the process. They then both eyed each other and watched as they removed the rest of their own clothing in unison, Bane taking just slightly longer than Myra did because of the brace he wore around his middle, which he tended to put back on after the rest of his clothes were off. When he tightened the last buckle on his brace after re-instating it, he lifted his head to Myra and saw an expectant and almost impatient look in her eye as she waited for him to finish adjusting. He slowed his hand movement on the last stretch, teasing her as he tightened the buckle one last time, knowing how aggravated and impatient she would be over the simple methodical act.

Bane suddenly reached forward and snatched her by the waist, hoisting her up just briefly as he rolled onto his back on the bed, bringing her along with him and over him. Myra's eyes grew large at the unfamiliarity of the act, which essentially positioned her over him in a straddle at the waist. She brought her arms out to fumble against his chest as she steadied and leveraged herself up in a sitting position on top of him. After she comfortably settled, she eyed him as he reclined fully on his back and simply stared at her with deep crinkle lines blossoming at the corner of his eyes at her awkward and slightly clumsy display. Myra gave him a stink eye.

She roamed her hands over his chest and abs before adjusting her rump over his crotch, giving her bottom a soft pleasant and suggestive grind into his lap. Bane just stared at her, though she knew she was eliciting a response from him by the very solid-feeling length of him pulsating between her legs. She smiled, knowing that pulsating feel was very obviously to the beat of his own heart as it worked to pump blood into that particular organ that was pressed up against her opening. She could feel it growing larger and larger with each strong 'thump, thump, thump' of his heart.

Myra waited patiently, her eyes roaming over his exposed chest and then up to his face, finding herself suddenly in a very new situation; control. She had absolute control over this particular sexual encounter with Bane, watching him as he lay there passively with one arm bent up behind his head as he used it like a pillow, waiting for her to make a move. To decide what to do, for how fast, for how long. She suddenly felt a tingling climbing her spine; an 'elevated' feeling.

She immediately went to work, elevating her lower body up by partially kneeling up and off of him. She then took hold of his sizable erection tightly between her hand, which produced a startled 'hmph' from Bane through his mask at the intensity and aggression of it. She squeezed her hand gently, which produced another 'hmph' from him, before she positioned his tip to her entrance. She then let the weight of her body and gravity do the rest of the work as she let herself drop and slam down over him, encapsulating him and very clearly sheathing him with one swift motion like she was sheathing a large powerful sword deep inside of her. She ignored the shear tension, friction, and stretch that always accompanied the act of him penetrating her. She instead directed all of her attention and focus entirely on him as she pushed the pain to the back of her mind.

Bane's eyes were large from the sensation and the slight manhandling she seemed to be carelessly deploying on him, but to say he didn't enjoy it would be a lie. Her hips did a slight grind once she had settled over and around him as if to ensure that he was in as far as he physically could go. Bane let out a hefty sigh through his mask from the torque she was deploying, which Myra could almost swear was a constrained moan, as his eyes suddenly closed with his brows furrowed into the hardware that ran down the middle of his forehead and over the bridge of his nose. She watched as his hands grabbed onto the sheets on either side of him like he was holding on for dear life. He eventually eased his eyes back open to stare at her, though his brows continued to be furrowed. She smirked at the new and unusual display exhibited by Bane.

Myra then began the process of letting her eyes roam from his face down to his bare chest and his stomach. He was thick. His body was thick. His neck was thick. He had abs, but they weren't highly defined due to an extra layer of fat that obscured them; almost as if he were keeping a reserve of energy and drew upon it when he needed it, which was frequent. She loved that little pouch over his abdomen, and the way his skin rolled there when he sat or bent over, instead of being taught and stretched out. She also assumed that extra layer provided him considerable protection when getting hammered in the gut. It certainly felt pleasant to the touch as her hands rested on it, providing her leverage as she dug her fingers and grasped into the soft skin that settled there as she began rocking her hips over him.

As she began riding him, she suddenly felt something rise in her chest. It happened after a quick spark of an idea lit into her brain after she contemplated her position on top of Bane. It was silly really, and she knew it, but she couldn't help but let the feeling consume her and make her feel emboldened and elevated. It was simply concerned with the fact that she felt as if she were in complete control of the situation. Of Bane. Bane, who, she reflected, had complete control of Gotham City. That knowledge, in her deliriously elevated mindset, gave her an inexplicable 'high'. It powered her movements. It made her bolder, energized, and passionate. It made her feel as if her position on the metaphorical food change was as high as it could get; something that, Myra noted, was a rare foreign feeling for her. She was generally shy, awkward, unassuming, non-threatening and not anywhere near as ambitious as someone like Bane may be who usually inhabited that elevated rank on the very tippy top. But here she was, 'on the tippy top'; and not just as it was concerned with a pecking order; she was right on top of him in a very physical sense, grinding down onto him with renewed vigor. Arguably the most powerful man in Gotham was below her between her legs, looking at her like an idol, appreciating her, giving her free reign of him and his body. Her lips slowly parted at this realization, her eyes glazing over as she continued her focus on him as she worked her body over him.

When Bane brought a hand up to grab hold of her breast, she promptly slapped it away. She furrowed her brows at him for daring to move or possibly even cause impedance to her actions without her permission. Bane's eyebrows shot up his forehead in a mixture of shock and amusement at her boldness, bringing his hand back down and complying quietly and obediently, letting her have her fun with a very knowing look in his eye indicating he had an inkling of the notion her boldness was fueled from.

After rocking her body over him for a considerable amount of time, she suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of his hand. She used her hands to pry his palm and fingers open as she directed his index finger between her legs, never ceasing the rocking motion of her body over his.

"Rub…" _Rock. _"Me…" _Rock. _"_NOW" _Myra ordered out in a huff between the gradually more aggressive rocking of her body.

Bane did what she asked without question, keeping one hand behind his head he used as a pillow as well as a means to elevate his head so he could gaze up at her while he worked his thumb and index finger against her clit as she continued to grind, rock, and push her body onto his.

In just mere seconds after Bane's masterful handywork, Myra very clearly started coming. Her jaw dropped and she shut her eyes as she rode it out, though she did find it considerably difficult to find motivation and strength to keep rocking over him as her senses were overcome and her legs experienced extreme tingling and numbness from the sheer pleasure of it. She started to slow down as she was overwhelmed with fatigue and the explosion of senses.

This was Bane's queue, as he bent forward at the waist suddenly as Myra was very clearly coming down from her high. He pushed her to the edge of the bed, shoving her legs to the ground as he bent her forward at the waist so her chest was flush against the bed. He hurried off the bed and moved behind her, grabbing her by the hips and without hesitation, he rammed himself forward to expertly re-entered her with one precise motion.

Myra threw her hands out against the sheets as she was pushed forward against the bed, her brows furrowing as she turned to try and look over her shoulder at him at the very clear reversal of power that happened when she was obviously in her most vulnerable state.

"_NOOO….." _she whined, feebly struggling with her newfound position as Bane very clearly made a show of reclaiming his authority and dominance. Her struggles were feeble, however; he did feel very good, regardless of his demonstration. In reality, Bane could have cared less about any perceived power shift; she had started to slow down, and he was on the verge of coming and felt that this was the most direct and desirable path towards success.

Bane ignored her whining as he pumped into her from behind, holding onto her hips with a moderate amount of strength to keep her still and to prevent her from squirming and struggling in her meager attempts at crawling forward. He didn't need to hold on for very long, however, as Myra felt an internal burst as he released himself inside of her. She settled down, lowering her head down to rest on the bed as she waited patiently for him to fully spend himself inside of her, which was usually when the throbbing of his cock ebbed against her internal flesh wall as it worked in overtime to fill her up with every last available drop.

After several minutes when Bane finally reclaimed his breath, he removed himself from inside of her. Myra straightened herself up when she felt his body leave hers. She turned to beeline towards the bathroom, but felt a hand grab her by the arm and push her back onto the bed. Myra bounced onto the bedding before turning angrily at Bane.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she said, affronted that she even needed to inform him of this.

"No," Bane said simply, as he eased himself into the bed and laid down, resting his head back against a pillow.

When Myra moved to get off the bed again, Bane snatched his hand out and grabbed her by the arm and tugged her forcefully back on the bed. This time he pulled her until she was dragged flush up against him. He wrapped his arm around her so she couldn't easily get up, pulling a blanket up to half cover her. Myra glared at him, knowing he was making a teasing and almost mocking show of making sure 'she' knew who was in charge after her earlier display, knowing it would rile her up.

"I'm going to pee in the bed," she said threateningly, making an attempt to topple his authority but also very clearly needing to go to the bathroom.

Bane simply closed his eyes in a clear indication that he was on the verge of falling asleep.

"Then do it," he said, daring her.

Myra worked her lips together, silently working the pro's and con's inside of her head. Bane must have sensed that she was strongly considering it, so he eased one eye open to glare at her.

"I warn you; if you do, don't anticipate being relocated from your spot. You'll have to lie in it," he warned, before closing his eye again. Myra's eyes practically bulged, fuming and annoyed.

After glaring at him for several solid minutes, the rhythmic sound of his breathing through his mask the only noise in the room, Myra eventually settled down. She eased herself fully down, resting up against his chest and closed her eyes with a soft sigh escaping her lips.

She was startled out of her daze abruptly, however, when she felt Bane's hand gently jostle her on the shoulder.

"…go use the loo," he breathed out.

Myra lifted her head and turned to look at him sharply wondering why the hell she couldn't have just gone minutes earlier but saw that his eyes were very clearly closed, and she would have mistaken him for even being asleep. She eased herself away from him, however, and beelined to the bathroom to do her business. After she was done, she made her way back to nestle up against his body.

She fidgeted against his body for several moments, her fingers rubbing idly against the exposed skin on his chest. After a long period of silence, Myra suddenly spoke out into the darkness in a hushed voice.

"Do you love me?" she asked quietly, knowing she was asking the question to a half-asleep Bane who very clearly had his eyes closed and his head half turned away to rest comfortably on the pillow.

"Yes," he breathed out groggily without much thought, half-asleep with his eyes closed and his breathing maintaining its slow methodical rhythm.

Myra grinned, however. A grin that spread from ear to ear. She moved herself up closer against him, burying her face into his chest to mute the words that were about to come out of her mouth in a show of bashfulness.

"I love you too," she mumbled, before she promptly fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning when Bane eased himself up from bed, he looked over and saw Myra face-planted into several pillows, her hair strewn everywhere. He reached out and rested a hand between her shoulder blades and rubbed it affectionately, which resulted in a loud groan to be heard from the deep recesses of the pillows.

"Did you have fun last night? _Stretching things out_?" Bane teased.

Myra rotated her head just slightly so that she could peak at him with one eye.

"Yes," she wheezed out, looking him over and acknowledging his tease.

"The sex was okay too, I guess," she grinned, snickering loudly before burying her face back into the pillows.

Bane's eyebrows shot up his forehead. After pausing for several moments to take in her vague insult, he moved his body closer to her and planted himself directly on top of her. This resulted in the air from Myra's lungs being expelled through her mouth in a loud painful huff, as well as her body being fully dug into the mattress like a tick.

"What's that you said?" Bane asked, moving his head near her ear as he positioned his bare chest directly over her back. He kept one of his knees and legs off to her side to moderate the amount of weight he was actually forcing onto her, not wanting to kill her, of course. One of his other legs wrapped over and around hers to keep them from thrashing about.

Myra responded by going into a coughing fit.

"I can't breathe!" she wheezed out, her arms struggling to push herself out from under him.

Bane responded by bringing his mask closer to her ear.

"Say again?" Bane teased.

"Okay!" Myra wheezed out, knowing what Bane wanted her to admit.

"'Okay'? Okay what?" Bane inquired, emphasizing his question with a slight shift of his body over the top of hers.

"Sex with you is more than 'okay'," Myra coughed out.

Bane still wasn't satisfied. He eased more weight onto her.

"Is it? That sounds humdrum," Bane said, with slight sadness lacing his tone.

Myra continued to struggle, and it was obvious at this point that she was legitimately having difficulty breathing properly. Bane took pity on her by leaning his body and legs away from her, grabbed her arm, and flipped her over onto her back to face him. Her face was beat red, but she still had humor spread across it and her eyes were closed from laughing.

She let out a low giggle erupt from her lips as she opened her eyes and gazed up at him as he leaned his body over hers. She brought her hands up to rest on either side of his head as she stroked his cheeks and the hardware that surrounded it gently.

"Oh, it's definitely humdrum," Myra teased with a massive smile, loving the sound of that uncommon word coming through his lips and his mask.

Bane gazed down at her, realizing the teasing from Myra was not going to end soon. He bent his elbow at his side, moving to support his weight on that arm as he brought his other arm to sweep across her forehead and across her cheeks in a soft caress with his calloused hand.

"I believe your recollection may be marred. Allow me to reinvigorate your memory," he crooned out playfully, already easing his body and weight between her legs suggestively.

A deep grin spread across Myra's lips as she continued to stroke the side of his face, relaxing and easing her legs further apart invitingly for him.

He definitely reinvigorated her memory.

* * *

Bane was walking through the main lobby level through the throng of men and prostitutes with Barsad trailing behind him when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. His attention got diverted to Myra, who was huddled around a group of 'women of the night'. He observed as they apparently were coercing her into something before they all in unison began walking off to the side towards an isolated block of meeting rooms. Bane immediately went after her.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, reaching out and pushing between two very startled prostitutes to gain access to Myra. He grabbed Myra by the shoulder to stop her from proceeding forward.

Myra turned around at him, startled at his presence.

"What?" she asked, confused.

Bane's eyebrows furrowed at having to ask the same question twice.

"What are you _doing,_" he asked with slightly more menace than he had intended.

Myra furrowed her brows at him, shrugging his hand off of her shoulder.

"They offered to do my nails and style my hair. I don't have anything better to do so I accepted their offer," Myra said, sticking her chin up slightly as she said this to emphasize her confidence in the manner. This made Bane realize that she was, in fact, _not_ confident about her choices and that she perhaps just now realized she was going into a private room with prostitutes that may or may not have ill intent on their minds.

Bane's eyes did a sweep over the prostitutes involved. He recognized the one prostitute he had bodily shoved to the floor for making advances towards him. He eyed her up and down. Her expression was complete shock and perhaps a hint of fear and embarrassment, but Bane could detect no sense of malice in her appearance despite the aggression he had shown towards her previously. She even was holding a bottle of nail polish in her hand expectantly. Bane's eyes settled back onto Myra's, who was looking up at him in anticipation as if she knew he was weighing in on whether he was going to let her proceed with the activity or not. She looked like she was on the verge of begging him, knowing he perhaps was going to give a resounding 'no' and remove her from the situation.

Myra was surprised when Bane turned towards Barsad, giving him a subtle nod with his head. Barsad's face and body immediately fell, the bored expression on his face transitioning into a slight wave of frustration before it was immediately erased before Bane could detect it. He moved forward and stood next to Myra, who looked shocked at the notion of Barsad as a chaperone while she got her nails and hair done. She immediately smirked, elbowing Barsad teasingly as Bane turned around without another word and ambled the other way across the courtyard of the main lobby level.

The prostitutes looked Barsad over before they proceeded to the vacant room they had proposed would be an appropriate location to do nails and hair for Myra. Barsad flanked them, dragging his feet on the floor.

Roughly an hour later, Myra ambled up to the master suite bedroom and was pleased to see Bane in the kitchen, preparing food. She ambled up to him and spread her hands out to show him her nails as well as to highlight her styled hairdo.

Bane turned to look at her, his eyes immediately fixating on the nails she was presenting him before his eyes moved up to her hair. He stared while Myra continued to shift her body weight from one leg to the other in excitement.

"Look! They did my hair!" she said, clearly excited.

Bane set his knife down and turned bodily towards her slowly, bringing his hands up to cup the side of her cheeks with both of his hands.

"They certainly did," he said, with what Myra could detect was a subtle tone of admiration.

Before she knew it, however, Bane's hands were sweeping and shuffling her hair into a massive rat's nest on her head as if physically erasing any remnants of the abomination on her head.

"Wha-WHA-WHAT. STOP. WHAT ARE YOU DOING," she yelled, frustrated, bringing her hands up to try and stop him from destroying the work done to her, her eyes closed at the intensity of Bane's disheveling of her hair and head.

"I'm doing you a favor," he said seriously, removing his hands after he was done. He eyed her again, diverting his attention back to his food preparation duties.

Myra's eyes bore daggers into him as she watched him cutting food.

Bane turned towards her, picking up his cutting knife and using the tip of it to point towards her hair.

"I'm going to have a serious discussion with Barsad about him standing by and allowing this…." Bane used the tip of his knife to make a sweeping motion towards her head. "…..to happen without intercepting," Bane continued.

When Bane realized she wasn't moving from her spot and was simply glaring at him, he brandished the knife he was holding at her.

"You had better run along before I decide to remedy those nails of yours too," he said seriously.

Myra reluctantly turned around, not caring to determine the extent of the seriousness of his tease or the manner in which he would 'remedy those nails'. _Was he threatening to chop my fingers off…?_

* * *

Myra was making her way through the lower lobby of the penthouse, hoping to reconnect with the prostitutes that had styled her hair earlier. She was hoping they could 'fix it'. The lobby level seemed particularly dense all of the sudden, and she couldn't immediately locate them. She had to push herself through the throng of mercenaries mixed with over-painted faces when all of the sudden she felt a hand grab her. She sighed, assuming it was going to be one of Bane's men that perhaps assumed she was a prostitute. What she saw staring back at her was a prostitute instead. The prostitute pushed a piece of paper into her hand, and then left abruptly.

Myra was startled and stared after the prostitute before looking down at the piece of paper. She opened it up hesitantly. It read:

"You can help stop the bomb. Save millions of lives. 555-555-1234."

Myra stared down at it for a solid minute before slowly pocketing it.

* * *

_**This is a reminder to EVERYONE: The next chapter is going to be….ANGSTY. There will be WARNINGS. It will be just…absolute ANGST. This story can't be all-highs all the time, right? RIGHT. Also. REVIEW. **_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author: This is it you guys. If you only ever want to read 'fluff' between Myra and Bane, STOP NOW. This chapter is….not fluff. :/ (at least not the second half, anyway). It's going to be a rollercoaster for a few chapters here on out as tensions run high as the neutron bomb explosion countdown dwindles down. BUCKLE IN AND HOLD ON TO YOUR BUTTS. **_

_**Also, apologies for this chapter being just…so long. There was a lot of stuff I needed to cram into it. I almost felt the same urgency one feels when they know a blizzard is about to hit so they have to hurry and get to the store and stock up on milk and bread before shit happens. **_

_**Also, you guys. WOW WITH THE REVIEWS. HOLY COW. AMAZING. I AM LITERALLY SPEECHLESS. WAY TO MAKE A GIRL CRY (from happiness). I really can't express how happy I get reading your reviews. You absolutely made my day/week and definitely bolstered me into hurry up with this chapter despite my reluctance because 'shit be goin' down'. Every time I got a review, I STOPPED WHAT I WAS DOING and worked on finishing the next chapter :P I'm not lying! Your reviews helped grease the ol' engine and are extremely motivating and encouraging and make me feel 'so dang good'. PLEASE PLEASE KEEP IT UP. **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

_**Warning: Domestic abuse in this chapter/possible triggering. You've been warned. **_

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 2 Months

Myra couldn't stop thinking about the piece of paper that the prostitute gave her that indicated that Myra could help stop the bomb and save lives with the clear phone number listed below the scribbled message. While she knew, _vaguely_, it was Bane's plan for the neutron bomb to go off, she had pushed that fact into the back recesses of her mind. He had eased her into a sense of safety and security, going so far as to convince her that she had nothing to worry about; and she believed him. She realized how selfish that was for not fully analyzing the smooth words he fed her that convinced her that she was going to be safe and shouldn't worry or fixate on the neutron bomb detonation since it would lead her to conclude that just because '_she_' was going to be safe, didn't mean than everyone else was.

She could feel part of her mind and heart tugging at her to go into action to help prevent an event that could save millions of individuals; faceless individuals that she didn't even personally. She felt like that lack of connection to these faceless citizens had helped her maintain her ignorance up to this point. She couldn't remain ignorant and naïve forever, however, and started to realize the astronomical amount of guilt that would build up and destroy her if she chose to do nothing. It wasn't just the fact that there would be millions of deaths that she could prevent; what would happen afterwards, if Bane were successful, and it was discovered that she had been in his shadow the whole time and even had just a small microscopic chance at stopping the neutron bomb detonation and she didn't? Would that make her just as bad as he was, despite the fact that she _still _didn't even know what his true intentions or motives were for setting the bomb off in the first place?

The things that probably scared her the most, as selfish as the thoughts were, was that she did not want to go down in history as the idiot who 'should have', but 'didn't' because she was absolutely blind from the feelings and love she had for a certain individual. And even more strikingly, Bane's inevitable disappointment when he realized what she did.

Myra concluded that she had to do something, particularly since there was such a clear call to action that fell into her lap. No one could willingly _not _help if they had any chance at stopping a neutron bomb from going off, as frightening as that whole notion seemed. _Why…am I even in this situation? Oh yeah. Him. Why couldn't he pursue a different hobby? He's brilliant. What drove him down this path?_

The real question that Myra should have been asking wasn't 'what' drove him down this path, but 'who'. _Talia. _

Myra decided to call. She waited until mid-afternoon, knowing Bane never usually made it up to the master suite during this time. She used her phone and dialed the number.

The phone rang several times before a deep male voice picked it up on the other end.

"Hello?" he asked politely.

Myra narrowed her eyes, detesting cold-calls and talking on the phone in general with individuals she didn't know. This particular situation made it all the more awkward; she wasn't sure what she should say, how she should introduce herself, or what to ask. She realized she should have probably prepared herself mentally before even making the call. Myra's silence as she processed these thoughts and dwelled in her silent awkwardness helped bolster the man on the other end to take action.

"You received our note?" he said in a mildly coercive way as if he wished for Myra to simply reply with an affirmation. She complied.

"Yes," Myra said simply, her voice low and mumbled.

"Good. My name is Captain Jones, Special Forces," he said simply, with a long pause. Myra's eyes wandered around, focusing on the wall in front of her.

"Then…you understand that you have the chance at doing a lot of good here, right?" Captain Jones eased out almost reluctantly, casually, Myra even detecting slight nervousness as if he may not be sure what words may trigger her into simply hanging up knowing he probably only had one chance at this conversation with her and that from his perspective _millions _of lives were hanging on his ability to communicate to Myra in a way that was both persuasive and convincing.

"Yes," Myra confirmed again simply, in a soft and shy voice.

She heard Captain Jones give out a constrained sigh as if he had been holding his breath. He sounded considerably more relieved.

"Good….good. I can tell that you're a caring person and wouldn't want anyone to die," he said slightly more conversationally.

Myra narrowed her eyes at his remark. She didn't like anyone making assumptions about 'knowing' her, particularly if he was probably basing his observation on the few curt responses she gave him. She shoved that annoyance down her chest, waiting for him to continue by providing him with more silence. Her silence fueled him to help fill it with more talk.

"We were informed that it was possible that you were in charge of inventory checks for storage and for supplies that made it into the city; is that correct?" Captain Jones asked.

Myra worked her lips. She felt like she was treading on uncomfortable, _traitorous_, ground. She also felt uncomfortable at the fact that it seemed like general common knowledge about her position under Bane. _Do they know my name? Do they know I was the hostage that he took months ago? Do they think I'm dead or kidnapped again? Will they try and 'rescue' me? _She worked her lips for several more moments before giving an answer.

"Yes," she replied.

"Excellent….is it possible for us to work with you to try and get a few of our Special Forces officers inside Gotham?" he asked brazenly, getting right to the point.

Myra's eyes continued to wander on the wall, concluding based on his forwardness and lack of remark about who her identity or her past experience with Bane that he didn't know who she was, _truly. _She then began to think about how she would actually do what it was he was asking; she knew of several secret underground routes that led out to the city, and was also aware of the slow influx of food rations that Bane allowed to enter the city for the general population. He had his men stationed on the bridges to both check and confirm that these trucks that entered the city _only _contained food rations and supplies to support the general population of Gotham. It wouldn't be totally out of the realm of ordinary for her to divert one of those trucks to one of their private storage facilities to 'top off' their own supplies for Bane's army, with the Special Forces operatives inside that track and bypassing the regular checks from Bane's men. Myra blinked several slow blinks, her mind racing.

"How many are you trying to bring in…?" she asked her first real question.

This seemed to startle the man on the other end. He paused several moments before answering.

"We would like to get three individuals inside the city, if we can," he said.

Myra worked her lips again, her eyes narrowing as she let out a soft 'hmmm' sound.

"Alright. I have a condition though," she said.

This also seemed to startle the man on the other end.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice slightly skeptical as if he were anticipating some sort of cash negotiation to take place.

"I'm not going to help you if your intention is to come into the city and kill Bane; you are _only _here to help neutralize the bomb, right?" she asked, feeling uncomfortable and unsure if she should even trust the answer he was going to give her. _Would he even be honest if their intentions was to kill him? How can I trust him? _

Another pause.

"Of course; we aren't equipped to make any attempt on Bane's life. We would actually prefer a stealth operation of getting in and getting out as quickly as possible. Bane is also heavily guarded and surrounded; it would be difficult for us to even make an attempt," he said honestly. Myra could detect the honesty.

She also realized his words spoke some truth; it would be highly difficult for three individuals, though undoubtedly highly trained, to infiltrate and get close enough to Bane. This was all true, _particularly _after Bane essentially 'upped' the amount of men he had with him when out in the public sphere following the infiltration of the Gotham Police officer that almost led to Bane's death if not for Myra's interference with her graceful pen attack to the neck. Bane was a lot of things, but he was no fool; he learned from his mistakes, and his mistake had been that he couldn't and wouldn't trust anyone around him even if they were dressed as one of his own. His eyes were always searching and looking for someone making some bold attempt at his life, as were the men that followed him devotedly. Myra also doubted that the Gotham Police officer that she helped thwart was the _only _instance in which someone attempted to kill Bane; he probably dealt with that situation frequently enough to be appropriately reactionary if the event arose again.

Myra let out a relieved sigh.

"Fine. I'll help you then," she said, before sharing her plan.

* * *

Myra found herself needing distractions; she couldn't stop thinking about the Special Forces operation with Captain Jones. She needed to take her mind off of it, so she started delving into various hobbies. One hobby she decided to pursue was 'baking'. While Bane was highly reluctant to encourage this particular hobby of hers considering her luck with cooking (disastrous), he idled around and realized she wasn't going to burn the place down. While none of her baked goods were 'delicious' by any stretch of the imagination, he always offered to try whatever it was she baked in a mild show of polite enthusiasm and suppressed disgust.

One late afternoon she had consumed the kitchen with this task; she had a mismatched set of baking sheets covering every available surface, table and chairs. As Bane entered the kitchen and observed the display, he figured based on the number of cookies she was actually making that she was attempting to give a cookie to every man, woman, and child in Gotham.

Bane lifted his hands up to brandish a bag of carry-out food to Myra as an indicator that it was 'time to eat'. Myra was hunched in front of the oven, staring intently into it before turning her head to look at Bane and the bags he was holding.

"I'll be there in a second; these are almost done," she said, one hand on the handle that opened the oven as if physically preparing herself to fling the door open and extract the contents at a moment's notice.

Bane just watched her skeptically before moving to the kitchen dining table. He stared, his eyes roaming over the mess and the lack of real estate to both sit and eat on. He relocated a cookie sheet from one chair to another surface and pushed the contents of the table back just enough for him to put the bag of take-out on it, trying to ignore the hint of flour that seemed to coat every surface in the kitchen.

He sat down and opened up the take-out food containers and arrayed them so that they were easily accessible once he took his mask off. Myra, in the meantime, finally removed the last cookie sheet from the oven. As she stood up with it in her oven-mitted hand, she stood shocked, looking around for a proper place to put it and realized that space in the kitchen was severely limited. She managed to stack it on a few other cookie sheets before she headed over to Bane and snatched the food container that appeared to be hers, holding it to her chest while her eyes roamed the cluttered kitchen table and then finally on the kitchen chairs that were very clearly occupied with cookie sheets and flour. Her mouth fell open just slightly as her eyes fluttered back and forth, making 'uhhh' sounds, unsure what to do or where to sit, realizing there wasn't a spot since Bane appeared to be in the only viable chair in the kitchen that wasn't coated with flour and cookie sheets. She stood for several more moments before she turned around abruptly on her heals to head into the living room to eat at the small coffee table against the couch instead.

As she was headed to exit the kitchen, Bane spoke up.

"Myra," he said simply, his head turned towards her.

Myra stopped abruptly, turning to look at him with wide confused eyes with the food to her chest, her mouth still hung open just slightly. She saw his brows furrowed as if he were angry or affronted by her behavior, although she didn't know why; there was no spot to sit, and the living room seemed like a viable option. She waited for him to say or elaborate on why he looked slightly perturbed, the furrow in his brow never easing, before she saw one of his hands make a small motion. It was subtle, but she definitely understood its connotation. It was a simple, soft repetitive slap of his thigh with the tip of his fingers as he continued to watch her.

Myra's mouth closed as she took it in, her eyebrows raising in shock and then mild intrigue. She then became skeptical, her brows lowering; while she was _pretty _sure she knew what he was suggesting, she needed clarification just so she didn't look the fool and make assumptions.

"You want me to sit in your lap? Myra asked, sounding almost astounded.

Bane didn't reply with a verbal confirmation, nor did the furrowed-brown expression on his face ease up, but he did tap his thigh with his fingers twice more with the tip of his fingers for emphasis and a show of visual confirmation.

Myra let out a wide goofy smile as she sauntered over to him with her container of food. She stood next to him, looking down at his lap and then up at his face. He used his feet to push his chair back from the tabletop to give her a little bit more room between the surface of the table and his lap.

Myra placed her container of food on the table before resting one hand on his shoulder for leverage, feeling awkward about having to decide how to actually sit in his lap. There wasn't enough clearance for her to simply walk to the front of him and sit down like she was sitting in a chair and knew she would probably have to crawl over one of his legs and then insert her feet and legs between his to be comfortable.

She decided to just 'go for it', grabbing his shoulder tightly for support as she lifted one leg high into the air to arch over his bent knee, bringing it down between the "V" of his spread legs in front of the chair, leaning forward to put her body weight on that leg while she tried to encourage her other leg to follow suite. This, of course, wasn't quite as graceful as she imagined. Her knee jabbed into Bane's leg as she lifted it up, her hold on his shoulder wavering as she stumbled awkwardly forward onto his leg and thigh, her hand snatching at his shirt collar for support as she attempted to right herself, stretching and warping it. Bane's hands tried helping to guide her but even he knew sometimes that it was best to just let her sort and untangle herself out, which she did eventually. He also wondered how someone could appear to have such a complete lack of control over their own limbs.

She eased herself up into a full standing position once she was in the center of the "V" between his legs, turning her head to look at him and then the thigh that he tapped with his fingers with, before easing herself down slowly and 'gracefully' with her chin elevated in an attempted graceful airs as if she were trying to make up for the clumsy-newborn-foal display.

She rotated herself so that the side of her body and shoulder rested against his chest so that her back wouldn't ache while she ate her food; she was not a fan of open-backed chairs. One of Bane's arm circled around her lower back and grabbed hold of the edge of the table. Myra wasn't sure if the table moved closer to them, or if he pulled them closer to the table with his strength; all she knew was that she was now considerably closer to the table surface than she had been before. Bane apparently wasn't as affected by the sound of nails screeching on chalkboard as Myra was as that particular sound ripped through the kitchen as he performed the task of pulling heavy furniture over marble floor.

Bane kept his arm at her lower back, caging her in, with his hand rested on the table to begin the ritual of eating. His other arm and hand were considerably more animated than the one that circled behind Myra's back. She could feel Bane's mask graze the side of her cheek and tap her shoulder as he moved his head around while making sure his food was arranged properly.

Myra opened her own food container and started eating the finger food tentatively, feeling like she was eating popcorn and on the verge of observing a theatrical display. This certainly was a slightly comical and a thrilling new situation, and Bane's thigh certainly felt good against her rump. She also loved the feeling of her body being somewhat dwarfed by his, almost feeling like if he just bent forward just slightly more, and brought his other arm in and around her, then he could fully encapsulate her where she would undoubtedly get lost inside of him forever.

Myra felt Bane's body still as he brought a hand up to unlatch the hardware of his mask. He took a deep breath and set it on the table. He immediately began eating.

Her body got pushed forward just slightly in unison with his whenever he leaned forward to capture the food into his mouth. She didn't seem to mind feeling her body being pushed and pressed up by his as he ate.

There was one thing Myra did mind though. Myra had traditionally _loathed _the sound of people eating, chewing, and swallowing. She particularly loathed it when they did it right behind her, or even worse; right next to her ear. Due to her position on Bane's lap and their proximity, his bare lips were just behind her ear with maybe an inch or two of clearance as he dug into his food and brought it up to his mouth before he began furiously consuming it. Her ear caught every little intricacy of his chomping, swallowing, gulping, and wet noises of his lips smacking together as he hurriedly ate his food. And she absolutely loved it.

In fact, she couldn't get enough of it. She loved the experience of sitting so near to him – _on him -_ and seeing his lips performing out of the peripheral of her vision as she turned her head just so, unable to turn her head and stare fully at him due to the angle in which she sat forward in his lap. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a precise eater with manners; he didn't make unnecessary sounds while eating and she never had an opportunity to hear this band of sounds play before simply because she was never close enough to his lips while he was eating. She almost forgot about her own food, finding herself suddenly pausing and relaxing as she simply sat as if she were listening to Mozart himself play his spectacular symphony orchestra.

It took Bane several rounds of mask inhalation to help prolong his 'lifeline' before he noticed her behavior, his attention usually hyper-focused on the task of eating food as fast as he could. It was during one of these moments of 'topping off' of medicine when he noticed her stilled body. As he took a large inhale of his mask, his eyes roamed to the side of her face, seeing her eyes glazed over as if she were in a slight trance.

"Is there something unappetizing with your food?" he wheezed through the mask that he held to his face.

Myra's face startled, turning her face in an attempt to look at him quickly before turning to look down at the container of food in front of her that looked only mildly picked over. She paused, feeling suddenly awkward.

"No, it's fine…I was just…listening…" she eased out, feeling like she was being inexplicably coerced into giving that answer despite no one twisting her arm.

"Listening? Listening to what?" Bane said, sounding affronted.

Myra's mouth fell open slightly before sucking it back up.

"You," she said simply.

"Me? Am I being _loud? Unappealing? _Is my eating putting you off your _appetite?_" Bane said, his voice slowly transitioning into menace mingled with the sound of being affronted, hurt, and offended.

Myra's eyes grew wide, shaking her head quickly to quickly squash the temper and hurt she could detect in his voice.

"No, not at all. I…I think I like it. A lot. _A lot," s_he said, emphasizing the 'a lot' to convey a wide array of meanings and suggestiveness.

Bane's eyebrows dug slightly further down into the hardware of his mask as he looked at her skeptically, but he saw the faint blush of her cheeks as well as the fact that she was being truthful; she wasn't displaying any signs of disgust. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Bane took in several more slow, deep breaths from the mask, his eyes steady and focused on her face before he put his mask back down on the table. He quickly went to work.

He moved a hand to the side of her face to turn and steady it away from his as he brought his lips closer to her ear, his air being expelled out his nostrils and directly into the small fair hairs that covered her ear, which caused them to rustle and sway to the rhythm of his breathing. This sound was amplified for Myra; having air being directly blown into an ear causes it to sound like ocean waves crashing against each other as if a massive storm hovered overhead, stimulating the waves into action. Myra closed her eyes, taking in the sound, feeling stimulated like those ocean waves.

Bane did this for a handful of seconds before he started working his lips against her ear, not being shy with the use of his tongue to add moisture, wetness, and 'slopping sounds' to the cacophony of thunder happening inside Myra's ear. Myra brought a hand down to rest against his thigh, squeezing it in unison with her clenching eyes. Her lips moved on their own; they simply upturned into a lazy, spoiled smile.

Bane did this through several cycles of wrapping his lips around her ear or lapping his tongue against her lobes and outer ear before quickly taking in a huff through his mask to repeat the process again. He felt Myra's body take on the consistency of Jell-O the longer he gave her ear his direct attention.

Then Myra startled, nearly jumping in his lap, bringing her hand up to smack or slap away his face from the sensation she just felt; him sticking the tip of his tongue directly into her ear canal. It was _not _pleasant and was similar to the sensation of someone sticking their finger into your belly buttonhole. She furrowed her brows, keeping her hand covered over her ear as she leaned her body far back so that she could turn her head to properly glare at him for ruining the moment. The look Bane gave her indicated he knew exactly what he did, deep crinkles lining the corners of his eyes as he re-instated his mask over his face, latching the hardware.

"Finish your food before it gets too cold. I wouldn't test whether there is an expectation for me to go and fetch you more food," Bane said with a thin veil of condescension and tease.

Myra kept her eyes narrowed, diverting down to her food and then back up to him. She rubbed her ear, removing the excess moisture and saliva that coated it from Bane's mouth. She had to push down the swell of curiosity in discovering whether he would, in fact, get her more food if the food got to a temperature that wasn't to her liking. Bane eyed her, knowing exactly what she was thinking and prowling along the edge of testing her limits and the limits of the things he most certainly would do for her. Bane bounced the leg she was sitting on once to get her attention, her whole body shifting on his leg which caused her mild surprise.

"If you don't finish that food quickly…then you may miss the opportunity to discover what my lips feel like on other regions of your body…" Bane teased, his voice thick with suggestiveness and grit, his hand squeezing and rubbing at her lower back.

Bane was hoping his words would have some sort of reaction from her, possibly get her to reluctantly start eating or maybe even simply begin eating it at a normal pace. He wasn't expecting her reaction, however; Myra brought the container of food up high above her head and just started pouring it against her face, shoveling and chomping it like a trash compactor as she made a frenzied attempt at making the food disappear as quickly as humanly possible.

Bane brought a hand up to shield his face from the frenzy of food being pilfered into her mouth. After she was done, he gave her an annoyed look, his eyes roaming the mess coating her face.

"We need to work on your table manners," he eased out with an annoyed sigh, the charm and sexiness very clearly absent from his voice as he pushed their chair away from the table abruptly before giving Myra an equally firm push off of his lap, very clearly dismissing her.

* * *

Myra woke up much earlier than usual one morning, turning her head and reaching out towards the side of the bed that Bane usually inhabited and noticed he was out of bed already. She gave a loud yawn, deciding to go use the restroom quick before making an attempt at going back to bed.

As she was entering the bathroom, she stopped abruptly, startled. She was presented with Bane very clearly using cleaning products to disinfect and clean the bathroom sink and other surfaces. She looked around and noticed the toilet had the fresh blue liquid in it indicating it was also freshly cleaned. She turned her attention back to him, his attention unwavering from his cleaning task despite her added presence.

"Are you…are you _cleaning?"_ Myra asked, genuinely surprised.

Bane stopped scrubbing the sink to raise his head up to give her a glare.

"Yes. Who else do you think has been doing the chore? _You? _This place would be abominable if you were tasked with cleanliness and sanitation," Bane said, sounding irritated.

Myra then started reflecting on the fact that since the months they've been living here, she never stopped to think about why the place always seemed _clean. _It never dawned on her that someone (Bane) was actually making a habit of cleaning it. If they had simply 'lived' in the penthouse master suite without either of them lifting a finger to clean, this place would be absolutely disgusting by now because she most certainly wouldn't have found the motivation to start cleaning.

She felt somewhat neglectful and embarrassed for not having noticed his effort to keep their living space clean. She also embarrassingly realized that the baking messes she had been making were also mysteriously cleaned up after she left the kitchen like a tornado disaster, seemingly too self-involved with her own devices to realize that someone took the time to clean it up after her. She began to strongly associate to the story with the woman who had elves visit her house and do the work for her while she slept and disappeared before she woke up and never suspecting a thing. She had trouble imagining Bane as an elf, however.

Myra continued to think about this as she awkwardly made her way to the toilet, lowering her pajamas and underwear down to sit and urinate into the fresh blue cleaner bowl liquid while staring at Bane's back as he resumed his scrubbing of the sink. She started grinning.

"You know, you look kind of like Mr. Clean," Myra mused.

Bane stopped scrubbing to give her his attention.

"Who?" he asked, affronted by the name.

Myra's eyes grew large with excitement, having to control and stop herself from simply flying off the toilet to go grab her computer to pull up an image of Mr. Clean to show him. She quickly wiped herself, flushed the toilet, and ran out of the room. She came back practically bouncing on her feet to present him of the image of Mr. Clean.

Bane was remarkably unimpressed by the comparison.

He also made Myra stay up with him and take over some of the things he had planned cleaning due to her need to establish an unflattering comparison between him and Mr. Clean. Despite her obvious desire to simply go back to sleep, Myra thought the punishment was worth it.

* * *

Bane decided that part of Myra's offensive training should address the use of firearms. When he broached the subject, he was absolutely astounded that she had never actually held a gun let alone used one. He decided to remedy that, despite the extreme reluctance and trepidation expressed by Myra.

They used the bottom level of the penthouse building in the underground garage where John Daggett had kept his armada of luxury vehicles. They used one of the cement walls as target practice, where Bane outlined arbitrary shapes with chalk to help guide her. Myra particularly amused by one specific shape on the wall as she went up to it and pointed at it.

"Hey! This one looks kind of like Batman!" Myra said, amused, looking over the crude shape of a caped figure with points over the head. She grinned, letting her fingers run along the chalked outline before stepping away from it.

"You know, I always thought he was kind of cute…" Myra said jokingly, giving one last glance to the outline before bodily turning towards Bane.

She stilled and silenced herself when she saw the seething anger he was radiating. He was _not_ amused by her words for a wide array of reasons that Myra couldn't possibly have fathomed since she didn't know the extent of Bane and Batman's interactions up to that point. Myra honestly thought Batman was still 'retired' after years of inactivity and not being seen in the public sphere. Bane started breathing angrily through his mask.

"_Geesh_. Fine. He's not cute…" Myra said dismissively stepping further away from the chalk drawing to stand next to him, directing her eyes to the pistol he was holding.

Myra waited patiently while Bane let his breath calm down before he held up the pistol towards her to begin showing her the components of the gun. _Jesus. I wonder what he'd do if I accidentally 'checked someone out' in public. Jealous much? _

Myra brought a hand up to her lips to cover a smile that started forming at her internal dialogue. Bane, of course, was _not _jealous of Batman. He was simply upset at the show of admiration Myra seemed to show towards a man that Bane absolutely loathed and despised. It was highly doubtful that he would give two shits if Myra 'checked someone out' in public. He would probably find the display amusing due to Myra's naturally shy and bashful nature. She usually kept her eyes down to look at the ground when she walked so that she didn't have to make eye contact; for her to look up and even suggestively let her eyes roam over another male body was something that would be entirely shocking and titillating for Bane to see. Bane liked being titillated. Bane also possessed an enormous amount of self-confidence; the concept of jealousy was an alien and foreign feeling for him. When he needed or wanted something, he simply took it.

"Number one rule. _NEVER_ point the muzzle towards anyone unless you plan on killing them," Bane said, using the tip of his finger to indicate the tip of the gun as the muzzle.

Myra's face fell, her brows furrowing as she gave him a 'look'.

"Well, I don't plan on killing _anyone, EVER, _so does that just mean I never point the muzzle at anyone? If that's the case, then what's the point of learning about gun safety if I probably should just never hold a gun?" Myra breathed out with slight annoyance.

Bane gave her a critical look, knowing she was on the verge of being sassy and simply argumentative as she let her morals drive her frustration.

"Even if you _never _anticipate killing anyone, you should still learn about basic gun safety. Now, the quicker we get through this the quicker you can go do whatever asinine activity you have planned after this," Bane said, annoyed.

Myra's eyes grew large at his rare bout of impatience directed towards her; usually it took a considerably more amount of sass out of her mouth to get him this riled up so soon. He was probably still upset about her quip about Batman. She let a snicker form on her lips.

"Oh? Is that right? I can go do whatever 'asinine activity' I had planned after this? Well, if you were curious to know…" Myra eased out in her best impression of a seductive voice as she reached out with her hand and grabbed him at his crotch.

Bane accidentally discharged the pistol.

Both Myra and Bane jumped, Myra more so than Bane, with Myra screaming. Myra brought her hands to ears to deafen the sound of the gunshot, her eyes closing at the acute and unexpected noise. Bane was furious.

"_DON'T _DO_ THAT WHEN I'M HOLDING A LOADED WEAPON,_" he said, raging.

Myra slowly eased her eyes open to glare at him, removing her hands from her ears, bodily leaning away from his booming shout directed at her. After her nerves settled, she huffed out a sigh.

"I _WON'T_. _GOSH. _It apparently leads to an asinine activity anyway, so…." Myra eased out, stopping herself when she saw the look from Bane. It was obvious he was nearing his patience threshold. She decided to ease back on her sass. She let out a sigh, wiping her face of any sass into a more serious and focused one. Bane proceeded after seeing her demeanor shift, holding the weapon back up for her to see.

"This leads into the firearm _safety _button…" Bane said, using his large meaty finger to tap a small section on the weapon where a little red dot occupied it.

"If you see this little red dot, it means your firearm safety is _off. _It's ready to engage. Red means dead. Got it?" Bane asked, eyeing her and waiting for a confirmation.

"Red means dead. Got it," she said, fighting back the urge to revert back into an argumentative tone to remind him that she had _no _intention of using the weapon to kill or hurt anyone and that his little rhyme might not be a suitable reminder.

Bane nodded when he saw he had her full attention.

"Now, don't always rely on that safety trigger. Don't assume you can still point the muzzle at someone just because your safety is on. Always assume it's off," he said, before turning the pistol over and removing the magazine clip.

"You should also know about the mechanical and handling characteristics of the firearm fully before you use it, but I'll settle with you simply being able to re-insert this magazine back into the weapon…" he said, handing the unloaded pistol with the magazine to her.

Myra gave him a look as if he were asking her to count to '3'. _Easy_. She made an attempt at reloading the weapon with the magazine, however, and found it surprisingly difficult. She eventually figured it out after Bane brought his hands out and helped guide her in the activity. He then showed her the button to remove the magazine and motioned for her to give it a try without his guidance. She had slightly less difficulty the second time around but was still by no means an expert. Bane made her try it a dozen or so more times until she was able to perform it in a somewhat fluid motion.

"Good. Let's try some target practice, shall we?" Bane said, standing behind her to aim her shoulders towards the arbitrary chalk drawings. She decided to focus on an amorphous blob shape.

Bane brought his hands up and guided her into a proper stance, raising her arms up and pointed at the sight on the barrel of the gun for her to use for precision.

"Use that to aim. Squeeze the trigger," he ordered, taking a step back behind her.

Myra eyed him, then the gun, then the target she was aiming at. She looked down the sight, closing one eye, mentally preparing herself for a loud 'bang' as she slowly squeezed her finger on the trigger. The anticipation of the loud noise and shot was nerve-racking; however, as she fully squeezed the trigger, she opened both of her eyes and moved her head back to look at the gun, dumbfounded, when it didn't fire.

"…it's broken," she said, perplexed.

Bane gave her an annoyed look.

"Your safety is on," he reminded her in a patronizing tone.

Myra gave him a critical look, furrowing her brows, switching the safety off before resuming her stance. She slowly eased the trigger and eventually both heard and felt the gun unload a bullet straight towards the target. It didn't land anywhere near the center, but at least it made it on the same wall that the chalk drawing inhabited. Myra relaxed her body somewhat but could feel her body shaking from the adrenaline and the nerves that overtook her when she shot the weapon. Bane nodded at her.

"Good. Keep at it until you unload the magazine," he said, standing behind her to watch.

Myra found it considerably less unnerving to use it following the first round, finding herself a bit more comfortable using it. When she ran out of bullets, Bane handed her a new magazine and watched her as she removed her spent magazine and replaced it with the new one. She then proceeded with her target practice.

Myra didn't hear the footsteps approaching from behind as she was spending the magazine into the wall. Between rounds she did pick up on Barsad's voice as he was mumbling something to Bane. His presence was both surprising and welcome, so she immediately turned her body towards him to give him a quick greeting.

"Hey Barsa-" Myra started to say, but was interrupted by a massive hand pushing down her arms and yanking the pistol out of her hand.

She looked up to see a pair of very wide eyes from both Barsad and Bane looking at her. Bane's were considerably more angry than shocked as he adjusted the pistol in his hand, holstering it in his belt. She was at first confused by their uncharacteristic display of shock, but soon realized she had bodily turned herself towards them with the muzzle of the weapon sweeping past Bane and right towards Barsad. Redness overtook her face at her mistake.

"Go upstairs. We're done for today before you decide to kill someone," Bane fumed at her in a dismissive tone.

Myra furrowed her brows at him, crossing her arms over her chest as the redness continued to creep over her face.

"I thought that was _the point,"_ Myra said sassily, annoyed by his condescension and blatant dismissiveness and anger.

Barsad watched as Bane and Myra locked in a staring match for several moments until Bane brought a hand up to flick towards her in a further show of dismissiveness as if to say, "Move along now. You're dismissed".

She huffed and seethed at him for several moments, not immediately moving, but finally dropped her arms to her sides and began sauntering away.

"…. fine. I have asinine activities to attend to anyway," she fumed, strolling towards the elevators. Halfway there, she turned around, pointing a finger at Bane and made another comment that interrupted the conversation that Bane and Barsad seemed to be immersed in.

"I may even ask for volunteers to join in with my asinine activities. _Who knows," s_he continued, fueled by a mild sense of embarrassment and not caring for the dismissive display exhibited by Bane.

She watched as Bane's eyebrows furrowed deeply over his eyes as he analyzed her and the hidden subtleties of her words. Bane doubted very much Myra would follow-through with her ridiculous threat. She usually kept her eyes averted to the ground to avoid looking at people. He also knew she generally detested and avoided being touched; it was remarkable to witness her body turn into a fluidic-like ninja shape as she actively avoided being accidentally nudged or touched by someone. He also knew that if he hadn't been the one to initiate a first physical encounter with her, then she most certainly wouldn't have. It had taken her a considerable amount of time to even be fully comfortable with touching Bane without any form of hesitation or thought and not simply be reciprocating but actually be the instigator with her physical affections.

Bane, on the other hand, was significantly more comfortable with the use of touch as a communication tool than Myra was. In fact, Bane loved touching people. Bane would be severely hampered if he was suddenly unable to do so. Bane wasn't shy. If he wanted to make a point, he had no problem poking someone in the chest for emphasis, intimidating someone by resting a hand on their shoulder or stroking their cheek threateningly, shoving someone, or even the more elegant art form of punching and choking. When he walked somewhere and someone didn't move out of his way, he just plowed through like a steam-powered train. This also extended to his affectionate displays, too. If the relationship called for it, he had no issue with holding or touching someone to comfort them, even when in public; he would do these sorts of things with Myra more frequently too if she weren't so shy and awkward about PDA. The truth was that Bane simply didn't have many relationships in his life that called for affection, so this unfortunately led to the use of the predominantly aggressive variety of touch as a communication tool.

Despite Myra's extreme preference towards keeping her hands to herself and the unlikely event that she would actually follow-through with her threat to approach a random stranger to engage in some 'asinine activity', her words definitely made his hackles rise.

Barsad watched with curiosity as Bane immediately stormed after her, shocked that such a simple statement could induce such a reaction out of Bane. He watched as Myra seemed to visibly startle, probably equally shocked that her comment had gotten that much of a rise out of Bane, before she turned tail and ran towards the elevators. Barsad continued to watch as Bane caught up with her, snatched her off the ground where she began writhing, screaming and laughing, and approached one of the luxury vehicles. He readjusted Myra over his shoulder like a sack of meat, opening one of the driver doors to the vehicle and bent down to activate the switch to pop the trunk open. He then moved around the vehicle and dropped Myra into the trunk and closed it before she could scramble out of it. Bane marched back towards Barsad to the sounds of Myra thumping against the interior of the trunk and shouting for someone to let her out mixed with her confessions that she wasn't actually going to ask anyone to participate in an asinine activity with her. When Bane finally made it back to Barsad, he let out a huff out of his mask as if he had just completed a great chore and was ready to resume business.

After they were done discussing business, Bane and Barsad made their way back towards the elevators. Barsad's eyes kept darting towards the trunk that he knew Myra was in, despite her silence after it was apparent she had screamed her voice dry. Bane picked up on the questioning flicker of his eyes.

"It will do her good to stay in there a bit longer to cool off," Bane eased out, rubbing his chest idly with his fingers. Barsad stared at Bane, wondering if it was Bane himself who actually needed 'cooling off'. Barsad kept his thoughts to himself.

Bane did eventually come back down and fetch her roughly an hour later. He opened the trunk and saw that she had resorted to simply taking a nap. He had to rub her shoulder to rouse her from sleep. She opened her eyes groggily, turned to look at him with a lazy expression before easing herself up in a sitting position. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand before climbing out of the trunk. Bane gave her a quick affectionate part on the top of the head as she was climbing out and helped stabilize her as she fumbled and stumbled out of the trunk like the graceful creature that he knew her to be.

They didn't say anything to each other as they made their way to the elevator, waited for it to open, and entered it before making their way up. They didn't need to; they let their touch do their communicating for them as Myra held on to one of his large fingers loosely in her hand as they made their way up.

While they were riding the elevator, Bane's hand found the back of Myra's head where he began playing, smoothing, and fidgeting with her disheveled hair caused from the manhandling and impromptu nap in the trunk of the car. A lazy smile formed on Myra's lips as she stood, thoroughly enjoying the casual grooming gesture.

She didn't know what compelled her, but she reached for his free hand lazily, grabbed it, and brought it up to her mouth where she kissed each of his fingertips gingerly before releasing his hand and tucked herself under his arm in a sideways embrace, wrapping her arms around his middle. Bane wrapped his arm loosely around her shoulder, giving her an affectionate squeeze as he looked down at the top of her head nestled under his arm before they both exited the elevator to make it back to their living quarters.

* * *

Several days later, Bane strolled into the master suite later in the evening and found Myra lounging casually on the couch. He gave her a curt nod as he passed, but stopped, and immediately backpeddled. His eyes stared and fixated at the contents displayed on her shirt. Myra saw him enter, and immediately noticed his fixation. She gave a mischievous smile, craning her head down to press her chin against her chest so she could look at the front of her shirt. She rubbed her hand over her chest as well as the very distinct image of the "Bat" signal affectionately.

"Do you like it? I'm wearing my boyfriend's company logo. What do you think?" Myra said. Her voice absolutely dripped with tease.

Bane's eyes slowly narrowed, his fist clenching to keep his fingers from twitching. Myra picked up on his subtle physical queues immediately, jumping up from the couch immediately and ran towards the bedroom laughing her brains out in the process as she scurried away. Bane followed after her in a huff. He rounded into the bedroom to see Myra absolutely giddy, even jumping on the bed in a rare taunting display. It was obvious she was absolutely living for this display of jealousy exhibited by Bane. She of course still didn't know about the complicated array of other reasons why Bane might not care to see her wearing anything to do with "Batman" on her body. In the meantime, she simply interpreted any of his anger as seething jealousy and she _loved_ it. It made her giddy and fueled her as she continued to lightly jump on the bed in anticipation for Bane's next move.

Bane charged to the edge of the bed, leaning forward to snatch at her leg, but Myra simply bounced to the far end of the bed while giving him taunting laughs. Bane rounded to the other side, only for Myra to repeat the process. He looked up at her with furrowed brows before he used his large hands to grab hold of the edge of the mattress and gave a strong tug. This, of course, caused Myra to lose her balance and topple over at the sensation of a rug being suddenly pulled right from under her feet. Bane took this opportunity to circle around the mattress and snatch at Myra's wrist so she wouldn't get away. Before she could even react, Bane grabbed a handful of Myra's shirt and simply ripped it off of her in one clean swipe.

"_OW. HEY. YOU DON'T HAVE TO RUIN IT. WHAT WILL MY BOYFRIEND THINK_?" Myra said in a combination of shouts, screams, and giggles.

Myra watched as Bane stood and continued to rip the shirt up as if he were shredding a piece of paper; he wanted to make sure there was no possible way for her to salvage the piece of clothing.

"I'm pretty sure your '_boyfriend_' would appreciate your clarity as it pertains to fashion and never have to worry about you wearing such an abomination out in public - _or private - _ever again," Bane snarked, tossing the shredded fabric into the trash and stalking away.

Myra's eyes narrowed at him, unsure if Bane was playing along with her fantasy of Batman being her boyfriend or if Bane was very clearly claiming the role of 'boyfriend' for himself. She let out a big goofy grin, regardless.

* * *

Bane entered the master suite to the sound of a faint 'buzzing' sound. He furrowed his brows, straining his ears trying to detect the location of the buzzing noise. He followed the sound and made his way to the large luxury kitchen. As he rounded the corner and entered the room, he was greeted by a very startled looking Myra and an equally startled looking Barsad.

Myra, in one of her hands, had a hair buzzer which she was very clearly using to clean up Barsad's hairline around the back of his neck and ears. Barsad was sitting down in a kitchen chair with a make-shift apron over his body to keep the hair off of his clothing. Bane stood still, staring at them, waiting for some sort of explanation despite it being obvious what they were doing. The look he gave Myra very clearly indicated he still didn't like anyone else – even Barsad – inside their personal living space. Barsad looked down bashfully, ignoring the uncomfortable look Bane was giving Myra.

Myra stared him down, matching his furrowed brows.

"I'm just cutting his hair. I offered to do it for him," Myra explained.

Bane's eyebrows shot up his head, wondering how the prospect of Myra offering to cut his hair even came up. He decided to ignore it and just walked past them into the kitchen to rummage around for some food.

Myra began smirking.

"I can cut your hair too after I'm done with him if you want," Myra goaded, snickering loudly. She began elbowing Barsad playfully at the jest concerned with Bane's baldness. Barsad just sat there awkwardly, not daring to laugh but Myra did see his lips softly curl up at the corners subtly.

Bane seemed to ignore her joke as he rummaged for food, but when he resurfaced with a handful of food items and placed them on the corner, he looked at her.

"That sounds lovely. Perhaps I can reciprocate the favor for you also? I'll even be a gentleman and do it when you're in your most comfortable state; when you're sleeping," Bane said seriously.

Myra was not amused. She shot him a glare before returning her focus back on Barsad. She saw that Barsad's subtle upturn of the lips had turned into a full-blown grin at Bane's words. That made her even more mad. She yanked Barsad's head aggressively between her hands and re-positioned it.

"Stop moving or I'll accidentally cut your ear off," she snapped at him.

Barsad's eyes were wandering around awkwardly at the tense interaction, though he remained silent through the ordeal.

"Are you planning on visiting your wife soon?" Myra asked conversationally, as if picking up a conversation they were in the middle of before Bane barged in.

"Yes. I'll be visiting her tomorrow," Barsad half mumbled, half whispered.

Myra gasped in excitement, taking a step back at him to give him an excited look.

"_AHHH. _It's all coming together now. _That's _why you wanted a haircut; so you don't look like a shaggy werewolf for your wife. Got it. The stakes are a bit higher now; I better not mess up anymore," Myra eased out.

Barsad started turning his head towards her, concern on his face.

"….any more?" he asked with concern, bringing a hand up to the back of his head and sweeping his hand over his hair to detect and large missing patches of hair.

"_Shh shhh_. I'm joking. Stay still," Myra said quickly. She wasn't joking; she accidentally cut a portion of his hair a bit short behind his ear. She doubted he would notice since it would be difficult for him to see it in a mirror. His wife may notice, though.

"When was the last time you've seen her? Are you excited?" Myra continued.

Barsad sat in his chair, concentration coating his features.

"It's been…6 months," Barsad determined.

Myra chopped off a bit more of his hair.

"Wow! That's so long ago! What's the special occasion for this visit? Aside from the fact you haven't seen her in 6 months….?" Myra eased out.

Barsad sat silent. Uncomfortably silent. He obviously wasn't going to tell her he had the intent of visiting his wife 'one last time' before the neutron bomb went off. He knew Myra didn't know.

Myra continued to wait for an answer.

"Anniversary…? Birthday?" Myra pressed for an answer.

Bane interrupted them, having obviously overhead the conversation and not caring for the prospect of Barsad being put in the uncomfortable situation of compromising their situation as it pertained to the neutron bomb explosion.

"I'm preparing our meal for dinner; you want Indian food, right?" Bane asked.

Myra's face distorted at the prospect of super spicy Indian food, becoming distracted and her attention immediately diverted from her questioning.

"_NOoooooo _Indian food. Why would you even ask me that?" Myra whined, knowing Bane should already know that she didn't like Indian food.

Bane made a show of rummaging around their kitchen to see what other ingredients they had.

"Alright. Get on with it then. You had better get in here then and help figure out what it is you'd like otherwise I suppose it's going to be Indian food," Bane said as if he could care less whether they ate Indian food or not.

Myra's stomach growled; she didn't need to be told to hurry. She only had a small section at the crown of Barsad's head before she was done.

"All done!" she said, whisking away his apron, causing hair shavings to litter the floor, clearly forgetting about her inquiries directed towards Barsad and her only thought now was on food. Bane eyed the hair littering the floor with an annoyed grunt, knowing perfectly well who was going to end up cleaning them off of the floor.

Barsad moved his hand up to his head to feel the fresh cut, nodding in appreciation.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Bane practically lifted and shoved Barsad up and out the door without a word, even before Barsad had properly roamed his hand fully over his head. Myra was astounded and appalled.

"What? That's your 'goodbye'? You aren't going to see him for a while – don't you want to ask him to eat with us?" Myra asked, aghast.

"Missed opportunity, I fear," Bane said, already halfway back to the kitchen. Bane, of course, wanted to remove Barsad so he wasn't forced with the unfortunate task of answering Myra's unintentionally uncomfortable questions. He also simply didn't like anyone else – _yes, even Barsad – _in their shared living quarters.

"…so rude," Myra mumbled before turning her attention back to food preparation in the kitchen.

After they had chosen, prepared, and cooked the meal, they both moved to the kitchen counter to begin eating. Myra began eating her food, but then suddenly got distracted by Bane's mask as he set it down on the table in front of her. She was curious; she hadn't even held it before. Without asking permission, she reached for it and grabbed it. Bane's eyes snapped up just as she was bringing it up to peer into it before bringing it flush to her nose and mouth.

"Look, I'm yo-" she started to say as she brought the mask to her face, but immediately passed out, falling out of her chair and onto the floor like a limp sack of potatoes.

Bane had started to bring his hand up and snatch it from her, but he was too late; she had already taken in a breath of heavy dose of his medicine. He watched as she fell unconscious to the floor, dropping the mask with limp fingers. Bane continued chewing his food in an almost bored display, swallowed, and then leaned down to check her pulse to ensure she was fine. He picked his mask up from the floor next to her and put it back on the table, giving her unconscious body an annoyed and unimpressed glare knowing she was going to be passed out for _hours_. He continued eating his food.

When Myra finally did wake up groggily in the comfort of their bed, it took her a few hours to notice the crude markered drawing on her face that looked vaguely like a child's rendition of Bane's mask. She was not pleased by the haze, quickly checking to see if he buzzed any of her hair off too. She let out a huge sigh of relief when she realized Bane spared his hazing ritual on her hair.

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 1 Month

Myra had coordinated for the Special Forces captain and his men to load onto and hide in one of the ration supplies trucks that routinely made its way into the city. While she knew that their hiding attempts would be discovered during the roadblock check, her job now was to ensure there _was _no roadblock check. She waited with a heavy winter coat with Bane's men at the bridge barricade as the truck made its slow progression to the bridge. Myra could see her breath huffing out in front of her, feeling cold and frigid, and a little bit scared, as she watched the truck make a stop for Bane's men to check the truck at the roadblock. Before they fully made their way to the back of the truck to check the supplies, Myra ambled over to it quickly and simply pointed at it, hoping what little authority she had over inventory supply 'checker', and probably the more impactful position as simply being "Bane's", would cause them to stop and listen to her and follow her instruction.

"Bane wants this one to be diverted to our storage facility on 1st Avenue," Myra said simply in a huff, waving at them before they could go and check the back of it.

They of course eyed her; her behavior was somewhat suspicious. She also usually wasn't the one who did grunt work like this. However, it was also not impossible that Bane told her to run her buns over there and make sure no one opened the back of that truck because there could be other things aside from 'rations' in it. Things that Bane didn't want the National Guard, Army, and misplaced Gotham Police on the other side of the bridge seeing as they watched and stared as Bane's men did their vehicle checks. It was like two countries engaged in a stand-off and staring contest at their nation's borderline; the trucks entered in a way where when Bane's men did their inventory checks, it exposed the back of the truck back across the bridge from whence it came which was obviously where the National Guard, Gotham Police, and Army were stationed. They had a front-row seat to these standard vehicle checks. They most certainly would react if they saw something 'interesting' in the back of those trucks, like more bombs, explosives, or weapons. They took Myra's hint, figuring this was the likely scenario for her odd behavior.

Bane's men backed away from the truck and waved it through, turning their attention back towards the other side of the bridge as they continued their 'stand-off'.

Myra rendezvoused with the truck, opening the back to reveal three casually dressed men sitting on rows of rations. She stared. They stared back. She backed away from the back of the truck in a show that it was okay for them to get out. They complied.

"I need to leave. I got you in. Remember our deal," Myra said simply in a rush of cold breath, not wanting to be seen here with them. She eyed the individual she perceived as the leader since he walked up to her first and seemed to have a distinct presence.

He nodded, adjusting the gloves on his hands to better warm himself up in the frigid cold.

"Certainly. Thank you for your bravery. Your actions will help save innocent lives. Don't forget that," he said with sincerity, patting her lightly on the shoulder before he flagged his two men to follow him around the truck and out of her sight. Myra fidgeted for several moments before she, too, left to go back to the penthouse building.

* * *

Bane received an unexpected call from Talia.

"I have a surprise for you," she said as if she were sharing a gift with him in front of a Christmas tree.

"Yes?" Bane said simply.

"A little bird told me that there were three Special Forces operatives smuggled into the city in an attempt to neutralize the bomb," Talia continued to ease out in a sing-song almost playful voice.

"Interesting. Did your 'little bird' indicate their current whereabouts?" Bane inquired politely, seemingly unperturbed by the news despite the connotations.

"Yes…they're making their way to the Wayne Enterprise building…" she says.

"Perfect. I'll make sure they are provided with an appropriate reception," Bane said in an almost jovial tone; it had been a while since he had an opportunity to uniformly squash a small band of individuals attempting to overthrow him or neutralize the bomb.

"That's not all…" Talia said; it was obvious that her excitement was building up, and the thing that she was about to tell him was the thing she _truly _wanted to spill out and had a hard time doing otherwise.

"Yes?" Bane asked.

"A little bird also indicated that a certain someone helped these Special Forces operatives get into the city," Talia said teasingly.

Bane simply waited with a slight nod as he held the phone to his ear.

"Yes? Who?" he asked questioningly.

"_Your pet," _Talia let out, dripping with satisfaction.

Bane was silent.

"Take care of her," Talia said, in a complete voice shift; there was no tease or playfulness in the order she gave him.

Bane heard the beep indicating the phone conversation ended as Talia very clearly hung up.

Bane kept the phone against his ear for several moments, despite knowing that the phone conversation had ended, as he stared at the wall across from him as his chest slowly began building in pressure like a fire keg about to explode.

* * *

The Special Forces captain and his men eventually rendezvoused with Commissioner Gordon, Foley, Blake, and a contingent of men. As Special Forces Captain Jones and his men approached the gathering, Foley stepped forward to stop them from getting too close to the gathering.

"You got ID?" Foley asked them.

"Of course not," Captain Jones said.

"Well, how can we trust you?" Foley asked, concern on his face.

"We don't have any choice," Gordon spoke up, pushing through several of the men in the room to stand to greet Special Forces Captain Jones and his men.

"Commissioner Gordon. Captain Jones, Special Forces," Jones says, reaching forward to shake Gordon's hand, relief overtaking his face at a sensible body present in the room.

"Captain. Glad to have you here," Gordon says.

"It's our job, sir. Now, uh, how many of you are there?" Jones says.

"Well, there's dozens. I'd rather not say exactly…but the men trapped underground number almost 3,000," Gordon says.

"What kind of condition are they in?" Jones asks.

"They've been getting food and water," Gordon confirms.

"Can we break them out?" Jones asks curiously.

"Yes, sir," Blake says, finally speaking up.

"Take out the mercenaries guarding the outflow south of Ackerman Park. Blow the rubble, we can make a hole big enough for 10 at a time. I'm in contact with my partner who's down there. They're just waiting for the day," Blake says.

"Men who haven't seen daylight in three months?" Jones says, skeptical.

"_Police officers_ who haven't seen daylight in three months," Blake says, correcting him.

"What about the bomb? The satellite can't pick up any radiation hot spots," Jones says, getting to the point; the true threat.

"They keep it on a truck. It must have a lead-lined roof, they move it constantly," Gordon says.

"Good. So, you know the truck?" Jones says.

"Well, it's one of three. We've been tracking it. The routes don't vary much," Gordon says.

"Okay. What about the triggerman?" Jones asks.

"No leads. It's – it's a bluff. Bane wouldn't give control of that bomb to someone else," Gordon says.

"We can't take that chance. Until we have the triggerman, we just track the device," Jones says.

"And meanwhile…Gotham lives under a warlord like some failed state?" Blake asks, obviously looking to kill Bane and slightly offended at the seemingly passive handling of the matter.

"Dial it back, officer. This situation is unprecedented. We can't do anything to risk millions of lives," Jones says. Jones knows full well if there is any perceived attempt on Bane's life, he has no doubt Myra would blow their cover. Their cover being 'blown' could very well trigger Bane into simply detonating the bomb. It would also mean that Captain Jones would be breaking the agreement he set forth with Myra. He can't have Blake acting with a hot head.

"You gonna tell him? Are you gonna tell him what's really going on?" Blake asks, looking at Gordon.

"Captain, the situation is more complicated than you think. There's someone you need to meet," Gordon says.

Captain Jones nods, looking around at the men in the room.

"Right. First, let's figure out the situation with the decoy trucks," Jones suggests.

Gordon nods, motioning for Blake to lead the Special Forces Captain Jones and his men out the door to begin updating them on where the decoy trucks make their routes. They spend several days with this routine before they eventually circle back to introducing Captain Jones to someone that could explain the situation a bit better. They make their way to a semi-abandoned Wayne Enterprise building.

"Came upstairs looking for a vantage point. I found the people who run the corporation living up here," Blake says.

"What corporation?" Jones asks.

"Wayne enterprises," Blake says.

They take an elevator from the lobby level up to a higher level. There are fires going on in an open courtyard; the electrically had obviously been shut off. A huddled group of executives make up most of those individuals. They approach Lucius Fox and Talia, also known as 'Miranda Tate'.

"Mr. Fox, would you like to brief the captain?" Blake asks.

"Miss Tate's fully aware of the situation," Fox says, deflecting the explanation to 'Miranda'.

"And as C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises, I have to take responsibility for it," Talia says.

"Why?" Jones asks slightly incredulous.

"We built it," she says.

"You built the bomb?" Jones asks, confused and astounded.

"It was built as a fusion reactor. First of its kind. Bane turned the core into a bomb and removed it from the reactor," Fox says.

"Here's the important part," Blake says, making sure the Special Forces members are paying attention to Fox's next words.

"As the device's fuel cells deteriorate, it becomes increasingly unstable to the point of detonation," Fox says.

"This bomb is a time bomb," Blake clarifies, looking at Captain Jones.

"And it will go off in 23 days, regardless of Bane's revolution or what we or the outside world choose to do," Fox says.

"So your appeasement plan might not be so practical as you thought," Blake says.

"Could you disarm it?" Jones says.

"I could reconnect it to the reactor. Stabilize it," Fox confirms.

"Let's move away from this location, then call it in," Jones says.

"Right. Let's go," Blake says, making a move to join them.

"No, no. We'll take it from here. You stay and look after these folks," Jones says, as he turns to exit.

As Jones and his two other Special Force officers turn and walk back down the long stretch of hallway, gunshots are heard. One of the Special Forces officers drops dead. More gunshots are heard down in the congregated area where all of the executives of Wayne Enterprise were huddled around campfires and office equipment, spraying bullets into the air, causing chaos.

"Someone sold us out," Blake says in a rush, turning towards Talia and Fox.

"Go, go, go, go," Blake says, pushing at Talia to run back towards cover.

More mercenaries slowly take over the area like an infestation. The Special Forces operatives move to take cover behind large granite columns, brandishing their weapons, ready to defend themselves. Jones sees his other operative hit in the chest and fall to the ground, dying, leaving him the last man standing. Jones knows he'll die if he stays behind the column. He takes a breath before rounding the corner of the column, charging, where he is immediately gunned down by a spray of bullets. Jones begins choking on the blood that is slowly filling his lungs from the gunshot wound to his chest but opens his eyes to the sound of respirator hissing. His eyes lift to see Bane standing over him.

"I'll die before I talk," Jones says weakly.

"I'm on your schedule, captain," Bane says in an almost amused tone, falling down on one knee directly over the bullet wound on Jones' chest, squashing the air right out of his lungs and suffocating him from the full weight of Bane's body. Bane simply watches as Captain Jones fights at Bane's thigh weakly with his hands as he begins choking and gasping for breath.

"There were people living upstairs," one of Bane's men's shouts towards him.

Bane looks up and around him to evaluate his surroundings before standing up and away from Captain Jones' dead body.

"Round them up for judgement…and hang them.." Bane points at the Special Forcers officers "…where the world can see," Bane finishes, using his finger to point at the Special Forces bodies.

Bane turns and leaves to head back to the penthouse building. He still has unfinished business.

* * *

Myra decided to go down to the lobby level in the event that she would possibly overhear some type of news as it was concerned with the Special Forces Captain Jones and his men, either from eavesdropping on one of Bane's men's conversation's or even in a more unlikely scenario, receive another secreted note indicated the status of the operation. She was wading through the throng of prostitutes and men when the hair at the back of her neck suddenly stood up as if an electric charge had suddenly surged through the room.

"_MYRA!" _

Myra heard her name unmistakably being shouted by Bane from across the lobby, his voice resonating and echoing through the high ceiling and walls from the deep baritone he projected through his mask mixed with the anger and force he expelled his words.

Everyone in the lobby immediately becomes silent and still from the amplified booming authoritative voice of Bane, snapping their heads in unison to look at him. Myra herself became still like a deer as if suddenly caught in front of a car's headlights. She turned towards the source, standing on her tip toes to look over someone's shoulder to see Bane standing near the exit looking in her direction. He was fuming and looked absolutely livid. A chill that reminded her of an electronic shock ran up her spine.

Myra quickly looked around her to see if anyone had noticed or recognized her. She had no desire for a confrontation here; and the anger projected from his voice indicated that there would definitely be a confrontation. Unfortunately, there could only be one thing she could think of that would warrant this level of anger from him due to something she did.

She silently slipped backwards between a few people towards the long hallway that led to the elevators. A few individuals turned to look at her, then to Bane, then back to her though no one dared to reach out and touch her to try and stop her. They simply let her pass, though they didn't move to ease her passage to the elevators. This forced Myra to have to shove past and attempt to slide in between shoulders and bodies.

For Bane, however, they separated like the Red Sea parting for Moses once Bane spotted her retreating, creating a direct path between him and Myra. He immediately stormed after her, necks turning and wide eyes focusing on him as he passed by the spectators in a flurry after Myra.

Myra urged her legs to walk faster, looking over her shoulder to see Bane storming after her. To say he looked angry would be an understatement. The look he was directing at her encouraged her to quickly transition from the fast-paced walk into an outright sprint.

She skidded to a halt in front of the elevators, quickly pressing the 'up' button in rapid succession. One of the available elevators released a 'ding' noise as the doors opened. She rushed in and pressed the top floor button followed immediately by the 'close elevator floor' button, taking a step back to push herself up against the back wall of the elevator in the event that Bane charged into the elevator blindly. Based on the speed and momentum he was walking when she peeked at him over her shoulder, he would plow her down like a stampede of bulls if she wasn't clear of his path.

As the doors closed, she saw Bane appear in the closing slit of the doors, reaching his fingers forward to stop it. He was too late, however, as the elevator doors fully shut, and she felt the elevator shift and then start to ascend upwards to the top floor.

Myra heard a loud 'bang'. She quickly determined it to be something forcefully smashing against the elevator doors in anger. She immediately assumed it to be Bane's fists. Her breath caught in her throat, but she immediately let out a relieved sigh when she realized she had a few seconds to collect herself and escape his obvious wrath.

Once she made it to the top floor, she sprinted towards the master suite. She wasn't quite sure what her plan should be at this point; should she run? Should she go to a different floor? Should she hide? She settled on simply hiding. She knew it was too late at this point to turn back to the elevators and make an attempt at hiding on a different floor; he was undoubtedly riding up on a different elevator right at this moment.

She burst through the doors, closing them behind her, and looked around her settings. Her eyes shifted towards the coat closet at the entrance. She sighed, knowing it may seem like an obvious hiding location, but who was she kidding? He was going to find her no matter where she hid. She just wanted as much time as she could to collect her thoughts before he confronted her. She rushed towards the closet, opening it, and then dove into it to hide amongst several very large coats that had once belonged to John Daggett. She crouched down hoping that minimizing her size may make her less noticeable and perhaps even overlooked.

Myra, unfortunately, didn't have long to collect her thoughts in the darkness of the coat closet. A bright flash of light suddenly flooded the closet as the door whipped open. Myra looked up to see Bane standing in the entrance, glaring down directly at her. Bane observed her as a mixture of fright and confusion overtook her face. Her confusion infuriated him; to him, it highlighted her naivety which normally he perceived perhaps as an endearing trait but now it simply rubbed him the wrong way. It meant that she hadn't comprehended what her actions meant and how much time, effort, and sacrifice she could have obliterated with her meddling. It meant that she didn't contemplate the prospect that Talia would get involved and force him to deal with the situation – deal with _her. _Myra, of course, had a vague idea of what her actions meant; Bane had misinterpreted her confusion. She was confused because she was genuinely frightened; a feeling she hadn't felt since the first time she ever laid eyes on Bane.

Her eyes grew wide when she saw him make an aggressive move by stomping one foot forward and darting an arm out towards her. She flinched, letting out a surprised yelp and covered her face with her hands, thinking he meant to hit her.

She didn't feel a blow to her face, but felt his hand firmly grab hold of her scruff at the back of her neck to forcefully pull her up onto her feet and out of the closet where he then began to steer her towards the bedroom. She stumbled several times, but felt her body being held up as if by a harness from the grip and support Bane had on the back of her shirt at the neck. He made a quick detour at the computer desk in the corner of the bedroom, grabbing the chair with his other free hand, and dragged it along behind him with Myra still held firmly in his other hand. He swung the chair around to aim it at the television in the room before mirroring the movement with Myra by swinging her around to seat her firmly in the chair. He pointed a finger directly into her face, practically jabbing her in the nose.

"_Don't you dare move,_" he seethed, glaring at her before moving away from her to grab the TV remote from the side table by the bed.

Bane pointed the remote at the TV and turned it on, switching it to the news. He turned the volume to maximum before putting the remote down on the table. He went to stand directly behind Myra, resting his hands firmly on her shoulders. Myra's eyes wandered, first focusing on his movements as he moved to place the remote on the desk and then when he moved to stand behind her, craning her neck back to look back at him. He put a hand on the top of her head and used it to firmly steer her head back towards the TV.

"Watch," he ordered, his fingers digging into her scalp to ensure her head didn't turn away.

Myra's eyes focused on the screen. Band lowered his face down just above her shoulder next to her cheek to whisper into her ear.

"Do they look familiar?" he asked in a low, chilling whisper.

Myra's eyes wandered across the screen, trying to determine who it was she was supposed to identify. She saw a bridge, with what looked like objects suspended off of it by rope. The cameraman zoomed in and it became quickly obvious that those 'suspended objects' were people. Her eyes grew large as she took it in, not immediately making the connection of who the individuals were until she read the subtitles on the bottom of the screen identifying them as Special Forces Captain Jones and his men.

Myra turned her face away from the screen as soon as she made the connection of who they were, breaking the grip he had on the top of her head. Bane darted a hand out and grabbed her by the jaw none-too-gently, steering it back to look at the screen. When she was forced back to look towards the screen, she closed her eyes instead to block the images. Bane took notice and shook her jaw, squeezing it in a manner that would undoubtedly cause bruising along her chin and lower jawline.

"Open your eyes or I will open them for you," he sneered, giving her jaw another shake and a strong squeeze, perhaps forgetting himself and the strength he was capable of.

Myra kept her eyes closed, disregarding his threat as well as the pain she was feeling blossoming in her jaw. He gave her several seconds to comply but seeing that she had no intention of doing so, he brought his free hand up near her eye. He used his large calloused thumb to push forward over her eyelid and forcibly slide it up her eyeball, pinching the skin of the lid between his thumb and forefinger to keep it open. This caused Myra considerable discomfort as her eyes began to water. She brought her hands up and began clawing and pushing at his hands that held her jaw and her eyelid, but her actions were entirely ineffective against Bane.

"It appears that you have been abusing your privilege," Bane goaded.

Myra most certainly didn't feel privileged as she sat there, uncomfortable and distressed.

"You owe it to them to watch; you _are_ ultimately responsible for their deaths," he sneered, moving his body to give her an unimpeded view of the screen. Myra's eyes began to coat with a thick layer of moisture as she stared, her chest heaving as labored breaths escaped her lips.

After several minutes, Bane released his hold on her jaw and eyelid with a shove, evidence of swelling along her jaw and eyelid becoming painfully apparent. Her one eye was now a beat red from being thoroughly dried out despite the tears that had clustered at the corner. She brought one hand up to cover and massage it, trying to work out the pain she was feeling.

"There seems to be a theme with you, Ms. Bell. If I were a group of officers who favored traveling or working in threes, I would avoid you like the plague," Bane mused, as if telling an incredibly humorous joke.

Myra sat in silence, clenching the fabric of the hem of her shirt, averting her eyes to the floor. _Who could do something so demonstratively….evil._

Myra suddenly turned off to the side of her chair and vomited, the culmination of her perceived very poor and misguided life choices and judge of character catching up with her. Her face paled considerably.

She eased herself back up to sit straighter in the chair only to immediately slouch as if her life force had been extruded through the top of her head leaving only an empty husk as she retreated internally inside herself. She kept her eyes cast down as she finally spoke, not caring or daring to look at him. She brought the hand that had been covering her eye down to rest in her lap, squeezing the hem of her shirt. She mumbled something to him. He leaned his head forward as a clear indicator that he had not heard what she had said.

'_Hmm_?' he voiced, urging her to speak up.

Myra mumbled again, still incoherent.

"What's that you said? Here, let me help you…" Bane said as if offering to ease the burden off of her shoulders.

Bane retreated quickly to Myra's nightstand which hosted an array of glasses of water that Bane had fetched over a period of time for her that now sat half-full and abandoned. He grabbed two glasses, pouring the contents of one into the other to make one full glass before he returned to stand in front of Myra, bringing the glass up to Myra's face. She craned her neck back, turning her head away when it became obvious Bane wanted to force her to drink water. His free hand came up and clutched the top of her head to force it still as he started pouring water into her face.

The motion of the liquid falling into tightly closed lips caused her to sharply inhale in surprise as it bounced up and into her nose, making her immediately cough and sputter as she very thoroughly felt like she was being waterboarded as water went down the wrong pipe. The type of death that Myra feared most wasn't dismemberment, being hung, or being shot; it was drowning. So, when she started feeling the undeniable sensation of being unable to breath due to the water being poured down both of her pipes, it was beyond traumatic. It overwhelmed the part of her brain that handled fear. Bane pushed her hands away when she tried shoving and clawing the glass from her lips, which he easily deflected. Bane didn't stop until the glass was empty. By that time, Myra was practically heaving and in a coughing fit from the inhalation of water in her lungs.

He leaned forward again to give her a second chance at speaking up.

'Just kill me," Myra finally sobbed out in a huff, numb, choking, broken. Terrorized.

She was not mentally prepared for this situation. She had, to some extent, thought she was special as it pertained to Bane. _I'm not special_. She had never had anyone be so vehemently angry at her for something she did. She didn't like people screaming at her, disliking her, _hating _her, let alone appearing to threaten her very existence as if they were on the verge of snuffing her out. Particularly people she had just moments earlier cared for so deeply and unconditionally, had opened up to them and had freely given them her absolute trust.

Myra made the realization then that her feelings weren't unconditional; she did have conditions. Her condition was that he never ever treated her like this. No one deserved this. She felt herself transitioning from being his woman, simply and utterly devoted to him and being simply 'his' (_was I ever even that_?) to another one of his faceless seemingly inconsequential victims.

She wasn't an idiot; she knew Bane to kill and torture individuals for far less offenses made against him, sometimes having a preference for pain and torture prior to granting his victim death depending on the severity of their offense against him. And Myra knew she had definitely offended him. She also knew the severity of her offense. She wasn't prepared in any, way, shape, or form for whatever kind of torture tactics he had planned for her, however. She just wanted him to grant her one last kindness and get it over with. She released the tight hold she had on the loose material of her shirt hem before she lifted her chin. She repeated her request with more earnestness.

"Please kill me," she begged.

Bane stared, genuine shock consuming him, perhaps thoroughly unprepared for this sort of reaction from Myra. He vented several large huffs through his mask as if inflating a balloon, still driven by his anger and need to demonstrate to her the very serious error of her ways so she never did it again. He felt his throat catch unexpectedly, finding it difficult to continue or respond to her perhaps because he was, uncharacteristically, at a loss for words. He turned his head off to the side as he contemplated this.

After several moments as Bane internalized his thoughts, Myra reacted. She reached out and snatched his hand and curled it around her throat like a loaded weapon, using her hand over his in an attempt to goad him into squeezing. Bane immediately recoiled his hand, disgusted by her display. When she eventually saw he had no intention of killing her with his hands, Bane observed her as her eyes started darting past him around the room as if searching for a tool or accessory to aid in the process herself.

Bane felt himself becoming inexplicably frightened. He couldn't recall the last time he had felt this level of chill run up the length of his spine as he observed the desperation in her eyes as she continued her search. It didn't even occur to him that he had the potential to elicit this type of response from her. He didn't usually deal with individuals like Myra; the 'non-disposable' variety. Had he been too rough? What did he do to make her react so quickly and strongly to him in such a very negative way? He turned his head to look away from her as he continued to swim in his thoughts.

He quickly snapped his head back in her direction, however, when he sensed her move again and take something from his belt; his holstered pistol. He just barely snatched her wrist in time before the muzzle made clearance to point directly up into her chin at an upwards angle. Her arm shook, her breathing labored and making huff noises between her lips as she attempted to use all available strength and muscle to point it in an effective angle, even rising from her chair in an attempt to bodily bring herself closer to weapon. Bane was much stronger than she was, however. He simply stared at her display, shocked. He squeezed her wrists until she was forced to let go of the pistol. He quickly removed the magazine from the weapon before reholstering it into his pocket, giving her a glare, pushing her back down in the chair.

As Myra got pushed back down into her chair, a feeling of shock slowly took over her. Absolute and genuine shock. She simply sat there, synthesizing it all. She suddenly felt lost; misplaced. Disconnected. Like something suddenly broke inside her head. _Where...am I? How did I get here? What….what did I do? I'm not sure I'm supposed to be here. I'm late for work. When does class start? Am I late for class? Who is he? Why was he yelling at me? Oh right..I know who he is. He's...Bane? He's a terrorist. A mercenary. He kills people. He's a killer. He has Gotham under martial law, right? He plans on blowing up Gotham? How did you get here? Why are you with him? What did you do, Myra? WHAT DID YOU DO? _

Bane watched as her facial expression transitioned into dull resignation, the spark, humor, joy for life, and sass that clearly made up the essence of Myra Bell getting forcefully extinguished. His eyes started to soften after observing her transition, knowing she was currently internalizing and wishing for her own death. He knew he pushed her too far; he also felt undeniable responsible for extinguishing the zeal and warmth from her eyes. It was not a pleasant or desirable feeling for him. He began second-guessing himself.

Second-guessing was not a usual occurrence for Bane. Before, he never had to worry about reigning himself in with anyone and practicing restraint; that notion was a new concept for him. _Restraint_. When he was in his element, and was eliciting chastisement and torture, he ran wild and free. Now...he wasn't sure what his motive had been. He simply wanted to illustrate to Myra in a visual way; hanging three bodies on the bridge for her to see was deemed entirely sufficient. He didn't care if she thought it was monstrous or sickening; that was the point because he knew then she wouldn't do it again. He didn't want to physically punish her, so wasn't it appropriate to physically punish them instead? Display _their _bodies? Couldn't they act as her royal whipping boys, absorb the punishment that Myra deserved?

He knew if she did decide to aid in defusing the neutron bomb again, then it would be very probable that she would end up dead not from his own hand but from Talia who undoubtedly had her limits when it came to someone impeding her plans.

It took considerable effort for Bane to transition from the pure heated anger he had been feeling and swallow his pride to into a consoling, softer mood. Before, his anger had simply dealt with the fact that she went behind his back and tried smuggling in individuals to diffuse the neutron bomb. Now, he was angry at her for another entirely different reason, which completely dwarfed his initial anger; he couldn't _believe_ she wanted to kill herself. And leave him. Leave him as if she didn't even care. As if he didn't matter. Blowing her brains out right in front of him as if that wouldn't have had an impact on him. Or perhaps she did know that it would have a tremendous affect on him, and it was her way at causing him pain for the pain he had very obviously seemed to have caused her.

He had to bury this new raging anger. To say it didn't test his mental load and physical control would be an understatement. He had to push aside the images flashing in his head of her sitting lifeless in the chair with a bullet through her head. Of her body slumped forward, unmoving. To never move again.

Bane let out several very strong breaths as he mediated his mind and quelled out these tormenting images before he turned his focus back on to her. Her expression hadn't changed; in fact, nothing about her changed. She simply sat there like a lifeless doll. He bent down in front of her on his knees, reaching out a hand to wipe away the water that coated her jaw and neck, concern in his eyes. Her eyes remained fixated on the floor, staring, not rising to meet his.

"_Shhh_...I don't want to hear such a ridiculous request from you. I would be very cross if you were dead," he eased out almost jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood and stir something inside of her.

He moved his hand to gently stroke her chin, his eyes moving to the red marks that marred her jaw and chin from the aggressive manhandling he had subscribed to earlier, regretting it immensely, wondering why they looked so swollen and tender. He searched her face, waiting for her to look up at him. She didn't.

"Who else am I going to beat so viciously at Scrabble, hmm?" He teased further, bending his head down and arching his head so that his eyes were in her downcast line of sight. He rose his brows at her questioningly, wiggling them playfully, after he made eye contact with her, hoping to elicit a response from his physically playful display. He received no response from her.

Bane stood up, hoisting her up too. Myra's knees seemed to fail as if she were a lifeless doll he was attempting to stand up on two unstable feet. Her eyelids also looked heavy as if she were having difficulty mustering up energy to even keep them open. He made an attempt at ignoring her physical display, pulling her into his chest, and rested a hand behind her head. He gently started to massage it.

When she continued to stand limply, he gave her a good shake by the shoulders. When this, too, failed to elicit a response, he eased himself back away from her, holding her by the shoulders to leverage her away from him so he could observe her properly. He shook her shoulders again to get her attention when it was obvious she was going to maintain her fixation on the floor.

Her eyes finally rose up to meet his, but immediately diverted to look past his shoulder at the TV. She stared, fixated. Fixated on the cruel way Bane showcased the bodies of the individuals she helped smuggle into Gotham.

Bane held her shoulders before he looked over his shoulder to observe where her attention was diverted to. He immediately grimaced, releasing his hold on her and stomping towards the screen. Without hesitation, he slammed a balled fist directly into the center of the screen, causing glass and sparks to fly before the screen blinked several times before it went black and died. When Bane turned around and made his way back to her, he saw that her eyes were diverted to the floor again. He encapsulated her into a gentle hug.

"Enough with this foolishness, hmm?" he inquired into her ear, stroking the back of her head. Myra stood limp and passive.

"_HMM?"_ he said, one of his hands dropping to her sides.

When she didn't verbally respond, he gave a playful feathered tickle against her side.

His heart fell into the pit of his stomach when he received no reaction as his fingers began feathering up and down her sides. He moved her back away from him to look at her face again after this, confused, astonished, and deeply concerned. Heartbroken.

Bane quickly cleared his throat and took a deep breath, trying to fight back the redness building in his eyes. After fighting back this redness, he refocused on her eyes. And then he saw it; she was very clearly 'checked out'. The look in her eye indicated that she had suffered some sort of mental collapse or trauma. Bane never imagined he would ever see this look in Myra's eyes, let alone be the cause of it.

He continued to search her face, looking for some shimmer, acknowledgement, or variety of emotion play across her face but all he saw was a gray slate. Emptiness. Like she had retreated back into herself after sensing unspeakable and unimaginable horror charging her way, erecting a very large powerful internal wall that nothing or no one could penetrate. For what she had experienced was truly unimaginable. She had never imagined, in her wildest nightmares, that someone she could care for so deeply would cause her so much physical and emotional abuse, distress, and _pain._

Bane was desperate; he gave her another shake at her shoulders to get her to look at him with some level of comprehension.

"I have no intention of killing you, _do you understand me_?" he breathed out quickly, searching her face as he brought a hand up to stroke her cheek and forehead in an attempt to invigorate life back into her, hoping his words were the words she was hoping and waiting for.

Myra did react. She blinked several slow times before suddenly looking around, confusion overtaking her features as she took in her environment. Then she startled when she saw him in front of her, her eyes rising to meet his. A different look overtook her confusion as she looked him over. Almost as if she was seeing him for the first time, for what he truly was. _A Monster._

Bane felt his insides clench and grind at this silent judgmental stare aimed directly back at him, having seen this look in so many other individuals but never in her eyes before. His breath caught in his throat, finding it difficult to breath, as he looked away quickly to avoid her piercing stare. He also made an attempt to push the moisture that slowly coated his eyes, his heart twisting in his chest at his own involvement in encouraging her into this perceived revelation based on the way he treated her, surprising himself at how much it affected him emotionally. He could feel pounding in his ears as his heart began very painfully working inside his chest.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder to draw her in close so he no longer had to suffer looking at her judgmental gaze. He steered her from the room, which she reluctantly complied to as her feet dragged clumsily on the floor. Myra's eyes averted to fixate on her pile of vomit, leaning forward slightly as if to try and determine what it was and how it got there, looking confused.

"...don't worry about that. I'll clean that up. Hmm?" He coaxed out soothingly, rubbing her shoulder as if she had just undergone a painful dental procedure. Myra didn't respond, her body looking sluggish and drunk as she walked alongside him out of the room.

* * *

_**Author: I KNOW, I KNOW. I lulled you all into a false sense of security and I very clearly pulled the rug out from under your feet. *Hides under the bed***_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author: Alright! I'll keep this note short. I'm *INCREDIBLY* appreciative of the reviews I've been getting; it's what drives me to finish this story, to write well, and to be creative. Thank you for driving my creativity and gifting me with your thoughts concerning this story **__** PLEASE KEEP IT UPPPP I'M BEGGING YOUUU DON'T STAWWWWP I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Note: I'm also not a licensed medical professional. **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

_**The Truth About Monsters**_

_The truth is this,_

_Every monster_

_You have met_

_Or will ever meet,_

_Was once a human being_

_With a soul_

_That was as soft_

_And light_

_As silk._

_Someone stole_

_That silk from their soul_

_And turned them_

_Into this._

_So when you see_

_A monster next,_

_Always remember this._

_Do not fear_

_The thing before you._

_Fear the thing_

_That created it_

_Instead._

**_-Nikita Gill_**

* * *

After Bane put Myra in bed, he went to work. The first thing he did was locate and remove her phone to prevent her from establishing outside contacts again. The second thing he did was systematically go through the master suite and remove any and all items that could even remotely be used as tools for self-harm, including the knives and utensils in the kitchen. The third thing he did was call and update Talia on the situation. Their conversation was short, but to the point:

"It's done," Bane told her.

Bane could hear a pause on the other end as Talia took in his words.

"Good, she's dead then?" Talia inquired with cheer in her voice.

The long pause elicited from Bane before he spoke definitely didn't bode well with Talia.

"No, but her abilities to cause additional transgressions has been severely handicapped," Bane responded with assurance, hoping his confidence would transfer through the phone line and appropriately sway and convince Talia.

Talia paused before answering. Bane gripped the phone, hoping Talia wouldn't force him into a compromising situation; he wasn't sure what he would do if Talia demanded he take even further action against Myra. Talia must have sensed Bane's unease and reluctance regarding the situation. Even she knew she could push him only so far before he simply said 'no', putting her in the undesirable situation of being a leader of an organization with an unruly subordinate. His unruliness could trickle down to his men, which could very well collapse the house of cards. She settled on a vague threat instead.

"I had better not. If I do, I'll just take care of the matter myself. We are _so close_, Bane. We can't allow anything to unsettle our plans now. Any. _Thing._" Talia responded before disconnecting the phone line.

* * *

Following Bane's phone call with Talia, he went to the bedroom and saw that Myra hadn't moved from her spot. He ambled slowly to the bathroom and prepared himself for bed, peering out of the doorway of the bathroom every few seconds to look at the bed to see if she had shifted at all. She never did.

Bane eased himself into bed next to her, staring at her body. He would have assumed she were dead if not for the slow rise and fall of her chest. Bane didn't sleep that night; his eyes stayed focused on her the entire time. He wanted to make sure she didn't wake up and try to run away through the front door of the master suite or simply barricade herself in the bathroom and perform self-harm with whatever object she could find. He knew either of those scenarios seemed incredibly unlikely due to her chronic vegetative-like state, however.

Bane waited, half-expecting her to at least ease up from the bed to go to the bathroom to urinate, knowing she had a tendency to wake up and go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. However, as the morning sun slowly cast an ember glow over their room, he realized she never moved or shifted from her spot.

He sat up straighter, pinching his fingers into his eyes to rub out the tiredness, and was startled and disturbed by the smell of urine. He moved closer to her and saw that her lower body was absolutely soaked. She had simply stayed in bed, unable to muster the strength, energy, or desire to get up and perform the task of urinating in a toilet and preferred sleeping in it instead. She did not appear disturbed or uncomfortable. In fact, she looked exactly as she had before, having never moved from the spot that Bane initially eased her down into.

Bane got up from the bed and moved around to her side, leaning down and picked her up out of bed like a limp wooden log, ignoring the large wet spot that she had been lying in. He carried her to the bathroom where he stripped her clothing off carefully. He then turned the tub on, filling it up half-way with lukewarm water, standing with her while the water slowly filled the tub up. He brought a hand up to push back the hair that had covered her face, moving it away from her eyes, forehead, cheek, and jaw.

He inhaled a sharp breath when he saw the dark bruising that now seemed ripe dabbling her jaw; she looked like she had a dark purple beard framing her chin up into her jawline from the severity of the bruising. One of her eyes was also not like the other; it had a swollen and bruised eyelid that half-hung over her eye like a lazy-eye due to swelling which made it visibly heavy and difficult to open. Her other eye was simply focused on the floor as if in seeming disinterest to her situation.

Bane stared, eyes large and transfixed at his handywork, his fingers brushing over the tender skin as if not believing they were real and would simply wipe away. He wanted nothing more than to absorb the discoloration into his fingertips. They didn't wipe away or get absorbed by Bane's delicate touch, regardless of the tenderness he transcribed to.

He forced his attention away from her face to quickly turn the water off in the tub. He then lifted her up and eased her into the water, where she just sat forward with her knees bent as if she were top-heavy and about to fall forward into her knees. He then proceeded to softly scrub her with a washcloth, removing any remnants of soiling herself before he drained the tub and lifted her back out.

He dressed her in a fresh change of clothes, which was considerably difficult considering her lack of participation in the task. While it was a struggle, he tamed back his impatience over the whole ordeal while he helped pull a clean pajama shirt over her head, adjusting it at the hem to straighten it out over her torso with a shift and a tug one-handed while his other arm held her to keep her steady and from simply collapsing onto the floor.

He eyed the wet spot on the mattress as he led her to the couch in the living room instead, easing her down onto it. He went and fetched a clean pillow and blanket, adjusting the pillow behind her head and fanning the blanket out over her into the air before letting it fall down onto her. He dug his fingers under her body to tuck the blanket around her snuggly before he eased himself back up, bringing a hand to the top of his head to scratch it idly as he stared down at her. He then let out a determined huff before looking around the living room quickly before making arrangements to replace their soiled mattress with a clean one.

Bane spent the rest of the day idling around the living room, coordinating and instructing his men via text message and on the occasion a quick chat in the hallway just outside the master suite doorway, refusing to let any of his men a step inside his personal living quarters particularly due to the current circumstances. He was also annoyed at Barsad for his timing at being away to see his wife and being unable to take the brunt of the logistical duties that needed tending to.

* * *

By the second day after a somewhat uncomfortable night's sleep on the floor below the couch where Myra slept, Bane continued to idle within the master suite. He lifted the large soiled mattress in the bedroom with ease and deposited it outside of the master suite doorway for his men to come pick up and replace with a fresher one. They knew better than to inquire about the urine stain on the mattress when they eventually did come and fetch it, noting the agitated mood that seemed to seep from Bane's stoic façade.

After making a make-shift mattress cover to prevent the possibility of future urine from seeping into the mattress, Bane relocated her back to the bedroom. He noticed she had also soiled a cushion on the couch, but that was a considerably easier remedy by simply removing it from the couch. He walked to one of the few windows in the penthouse suite that could be opened and simply chucked the contaminated couch cushion out the window with seeming disinterest as to where it would end up or who it may hit far below at street level outside. He also gave Myra another quick rinse in the bath tub and changed her in another fresh set of clothes.

Bane would frequently circle back to Myra's bedside, even pulling up a chair and 'setting up shop' next to her. He took up mostly reading and knitting as he sat there keeping an eye on her. He made a habit of reading out loud for her when he did opt for reading. He wanted to ensure she knew she wasn't alone in the room and perhaps stimulate her into some form of response.

When he knit, he made several small projects before he progressed to making her socks to cover her feet. His mastery of knitting allowed him to do this somewhat hastily, though he did have to periodically expose her feet from under the blankets so he could size up the socks and make sure they fit her adequately as he was progressing with their construction.

When he finished, he inserted them onto her feet tenderly before tucking her feet back under the covers with her brand new pair of hand-knitted chunky socks to keep her feet warm when she eventually did make it out of bed. He was hoping her condition was temporary and that she would spontaneously snap out of it, lift her head, and look at him. At this point he wouldn't even have minded if she looked at him and screamed; at least that meant that she was up and functioning.

As the day progressed, and she didn't move, he offered her food and water. He simply put it on the table next to her head, not wanting to trigger her into a deeper state of shock and trauma due to his fumbling handling of water with her previously. She ignored them, which deeply concerned him.

* * *

By the third day, it was obvious Myra was extremely unwell. Her skin took on a pasty white complexion and her eyes were inset with dark patches and circles. She also was clearly dehydrated, her skin taking on an elastic taffy-like consistency on top of the fact that he knew she had simply not taken in any fluids for several days now.

Bane began to seriously worry. He was even skirting along the edge of considering _forcing _her to drink, not caring if she hated him for it; she was going to get dehydrated and become seriously ill. He decided to give her one more day to see if she would rouse from her eternal state of slumber, instead opting for activities that might incite some sort of reaction out of her.

This was a challenge, however, since her preference appeared to simply lie on the bed with her eyes closed in a constant state of rest. Regardless, he soldiered on.

The first thing he did was provide her with a small theatrical shadow puppet show using the bedside lamp, featuring her favorite boyfriend, Batman.

"Bane. You're tenacious. I'm too weak to stop you," Bane said in a mock raspy voice that was undoubtedly an attempt at impersonating Batman.

Bane used his other hand to wiggle back and forth towards the other one as if engaging in a conversation.

"On that, we can both agree on, Batman. I now must kill you," Bane said, as one of his hands consumed the other one – 'Batman'.

Myra appeared unphased by the apparent murder of her shadow puppet boyfriend Batman, the lids covering her eyes not even so much as twitching over her eyes. Bane let out a sigh, progressing onto his next activity.

Bane had stumbled upon a "Mad Libs" book he found intermingled in John Daggett's personal items. He felt compelled to complete one simply labeled, "How they met". He pulled up a chair next to Myra to complete this task. He spoke out loud as he filled in the prompts for adjectives, nouns, verbs, etc.

"Man's name? Bane," Bane began, scribbling his name into the blank spot prompting for a man's name.

"Woman's name? Myra," he continued, scribbling in Myra's name while giving her a pointed look as if she were included in on the decision-making of these words.

He then continued down the line, filling in the rest of the blanks.

"A Noun? Facetious. School name? Hmm. Gotham? Yes...that sounds agreeable. Gotham High School. Place on campus? The loo. A Verb? Hmm. Pulverizing. A greeting? That's obvious; 'Greetings'. Adjective….?" Bane said out loud, filling in each designated blank space until all spaces had been filled.

He leaned back and appraised the work, making slight adjustments with the numbers and some of the verbs in order to make the sentence somewhat sensical before he read it out loud to Myra, emphasizing the words he had obviously filled in.

"When _Bane_ met _Myra_, it was _facetious _at 1st sight. He saw her at _Gotham_ High School as she was standing next to the _loo_, _pulverizing _another friend of his. He _collided_ over to say '_greetings_', introduced himself, and asked her name. She was so _nook-shotten_! "Hi there!", she said, _victoriously_. My name is _Myra_. She had seen him around and thought he was super _opprobrious_. They _bruxed _for a while and then exchanged _hobnails_. Later, he _gallivanted_ to ask her out on a _loggerhead_. On their _1000th_ date, they went _blustering_ and had _varlets_ of fun. The _33nd_ time they _castigated_ out, he took her to _Timbuctoo_. Since things went so _blasted_ on their _2000th_ date he invited her to his _kettle_. After that, they were officially a _hurly_ and he started _brattling _her as his "_bawcock._"

Bane stared at the contents before him, absorbing it, before he let out a single slow deep-seated chuckle that reverberated through his mask.

"Delightful. Exchanged hobnails…" Bane said, amused.

He turned towards Myra reflexively to see if a smile had tugged at the corner of her lips from the absurdity of the formulated words. His eyes stayed on her face, looking over her passive features, seeing no evidence of comprehension or reaction. He sighed, settling his gaze upon her for several more moments before his eyes reluctantly pulled back towards additional MadLibs activities.

* * *

Bane was very much hoping that time would be his ally, as it had usually been; a dear old friend that taught him some semblance of patience and the gratification of 'biding one's time'. He knew with time, the pain Myra felt would ebb and perhaps she would eventually unfurl like a blossoming flower.

Unfortunately, time was not on his side in this matter. Time was a commodity he had a startling lack of; the neutron explosion was set to explode in only two weeks. So, by the 4th day, he located and summoned a doctor up to the master suite to treat her.

A doctor by the name of Johnson entered through the front door of the master suite with several large bags prepared with tools and resources that could help diagnose and cure whatever ailment Myra may be suffering from. Unfortunately for Dr. Johnson, Bane's description concerning what was actually wrong with Myra was remarkably vague, so Dr. Johnson felt compelled to make sure he had a proper arsenal crammed into the bags he lugged up.

The first thing Dr. Johnson did was simply check her vital signs and treat her obvious state of dehydration by hooking her up to an IV full of fluids. He seemed awkward and uncomfortable with observing the fading bruising and discoloration marring Myra's face paired with the arm that had a gauntlet-like bruise surrounding the wrist, undoubtedly from when Bane squeezed it to get her to drop the pistol. He opted not to address or inquire about those particular injuries.

After that, he did check her eyes and head for signs of brain damage. This was 'a given' considering the bruises she had; it was possible she got jostled around and hit her head somewhere and had a large lump hidden under her matted hair. He found nothing and seemed satisfied with her eye's reaction to external stimuli.

He then proceeded to hook up a catheter bag, which was probably the most uncomfortable experience Dr. Johnson could recollect as a doctor. Having to shimmy Myra's pants and underwear off of her and position her legs in a supine position with her legs spread out wasn't an unusual task as a doctor; having Bane right over your shoulder, practically breathing down your neck, analyzing every action you performed _was _unusual.

When Dr. Johnson put on gloves and sterilized the area around her labia using forceps to clean the peri-urethral mucosa with cleaning solution and used a sterile swap around the anterior to posterior skin, it made him want to scream with his hands visibly shaking.

Actually picking up the catheter and gently inserting it into her was the stuff of his nightmares. Dr. Johnson performed this task dozens – hundreds – _thousands _of times, but he perhaps had never felt like his life was on the verge of being snuffed out to due to one slight misstep or any perceived lack of chivalry with his hand movements and placement, which was just about impossible considering the task. Sweat littered his brow as he finished inserting it and connected the catheter to a drainage system. Bane's breathing over Dr. Johnson's neck was like a jet engine, slowly revving up and down.

Dr. Johnson waited around after that for Myra to produce an adequate amount of fluid to deposit into the catheter bag so he could test her vitals paired with some blood he drew from her arm. Bane stood there staring as they waited for what must have been hours.

Dr. Johnson stood up after having the liquids he needed from her and used the computer desk in the corner to run some rudimentary diagnostics on her vitals using make-shift lab equipment he had brought with him. After roughly an hour of waiting for the lab equipment to produce results, he packed up the equipment and hobbled awkwardly over to Bane.

"Well? What's your diagnosis?" Bane asked him, the first words spoken in the room despite their shared occupancy within it during that time.

"I…I can't….I….there could be a variety of things wrong with her. It's hard to say," Dr. Johnson sputtered out uncomfortably.

"_Make an educated guess. _Unless you're admitting to being worthless, in which case I don't know why I don't just kill you now and get it over with?" Bane threatened.

That most certainly caused the doctor to reevaluate his phrasing.

"She should start to feel better with the fluids in her…as far as why she won't get out of bed, it could be the result of a traumatic episode, perhaps a nervous breakdown? Depression? It's really hard to say without knowing the full context…" Dr. Johnson said, trying to perhaps fish out more information from Bane.

"Can't you prescribe her an antidepressant? _Something useful?" _Bane said, his patience obviously fraying along the edges.

"I…I….that's not my realm, I'm not a psychiatrist. I only treat the body, not the mind. I'd be reluctant to encourage you to seek out antidepressants right now...I don't know what kind of effects that would have on a fetus…" Dr. Johnson said, wringing his hands uncomfortably around the handle of his large bag.

"Pardon me?" Bane said, aghast.

"That's not my realm? I'm not a psychiatrist. I only heal the body, not the mind. You really should seek out a psychiatrist, I'm only a general doctor…" Dr. Johnson confessed, seeing his life flash before his eyes at Bane's seemingly nonsensical and erratic mood shifts.

"She's _what_?_" _Bane clarified, with forced calm.

"…..she's pregnant? Although to be honest, given her current state, I'm not very hopeful if she hasn't eaten in…however many days? I would expect her to miscarry here soon if the fetus isn't getting proper nutrients…" Dr. Johnson said, realizing what he was saying was having some moderate effect on Bane. He decided to trail off instead of stoke oxygen into the flames.

Dr. Johnson just stood there, waiting for Bane to respond or reply to him. Instead, Bane simply stared down at the floor with his arms crossed over his chest. Dr. Johnson waited a few minutes, which eventually transitioned into a considerably uncomfortable amount of time. He decided to pack up the rest of his things, taking care to provide a wide berth around himself as Bane as he did so.

"I'm…just…going to leave then?" Dr. Johnson said hopefully, seeing that Bane didn't appear to be moving or reacting to his inquiry. Bane seemed to be in deep, uninterruptable thought.

Dr. Johnson quickly slipped out the front door.

* * *

Bane knew his sperm count was low; he was practically shooting blanks. How did he know this, you ask? Well, he knew this because for a brief period, years prior, Talia had it in her mind that she wanted to produce a successor for Ra's al Ghul. Bane donated his body for the cause, and after several months of their attempts and nothing to show for it, they discovered from a medical exam that the medication being pumped into Bane interfered with certain aspects of his body; such as the slower progression of hair growth as well as his sperm count. He was informed that while it wasn't impossible, it was definitely more challenging. They tried again for several months again after that, though Talia's vindictiveness towards Bane showed every day she wasn't pregnant.

Bane sacrificed everything he had for Talia, and it clearly affected him emotionally when he was responsible for hindering her plans. Talia became angry, irritated at the 'chore'; there was no love found in her actions with Bane. Just a desire to please her father.

Ra's found out about their endeavors, however, and became enraged. He did not find Bane to be an adequate father for any successor of the League of Shadows due to his severe bodily injuries and his constant limitations requiring a mask; which was unfortunate due to Bane suffering from them for Ra's own daughter. He banished Bane after that. Talia followed Bane, finding shame in Ra's perception and perceived inadequacies in Bane to use as a father for a child as well as finding his judgement to be wholly unfair and cruel. Talia slowly began to adopt the mindset of her father, however, for they ceased their attempts at creating a successor following Bane's banishment and never spoke of any further attempts again after that.

Bane hadn't felt the need to inform Myra about this particular condition of his, knowing she would have questions about _how _he knew about such a specific aspect of his body. That would undoubtedly lead into a very uncomfortable conversation about Talia's past intentions, which would be awkward considering Bane had strongly indicated to Myra that there was no sexual relationship or history between himself and Talia. He knew that Myra suspected, based on his quick backpedaling involving the divulging of his sexual history, that he may perhaps had a 'quick fling' with her, but of course nothing to the extent of the truth. He knew she wouldn't take that information very well considering the constant vicinity Myra must know Bane was in regarding Talia.

So, when it was discovered that Myra was pregnant, he found it wholly shocking and surprising. He also knew that it was best to keep Myra's physical state a secret from Talia, knowing she had a tendency to be jealous and vindictive when someone else succeeded where she had previously failed.

* * *

Bane summoned up a psychiatrist to his and Myra's living quarters. Surprisingly, it wasn't difficult for him to locate one, even managing to find one that had specialized in fear etiology, which was perfect considering Myra's particular circumstances. He also happened to be on Bane's payroll, figuratively speaking.

"Dr. Crane, thank you for offering your assistance," Bane eased out as he opened the door to the master suite, extending an arm invitingly for Dr. Jonathan Crane to enter.

Crane had definitely seen better days; he looked frayed around the edges and had a somewhat disheveled appearance. To say he didn't practice research of sorts in the private sector would be a lie; his calculated and expert handling of experiments he carried out on his 'patients' was his superpower, so-to-speak. It was also what attracted Bane to him; the undeniable mystique of a man unburdened by rules or laws and simply carrying out his passion as a 'psychiatrist'. Bane had a grasp of the well of knowledge contained behind those icy blue eyes of a one Dr. Jonathan Crane.

When Bane freed all of the prisoners from Blackgate Prison, Dr. Jonathan Crane was amongst them. He bestowed upon Crane full control of the new court system of Gotham, answering to no one; not even Bane, who indicated he would not interfere with any of Crane's ruling decisions. These privileges and freedoms granted to Crane meant that he most certainly owed Bane a favor; Bane was looking to cash it out.

"What seems to be the problem?" Crane said in an airy voice, taking on the role of a bored doctor making a house call to deliver a prognosis on a patient.

Instead of telling him, Bane simply walked towards and into the master bedroom. Crane followed. They both stood at the side of the bed that Myra occupied. Bane extended a hand, brandishing it towards Myra as an indicator that 'she' was, in fact, the 'problem'.

Without further ado, Crane stepped closer to Myra's bedside. He sat down on the edge of the bed right up next to her, jostling her body somewhat which didn't seem to perturb her. Crane stared at her before brandishing the large black bag he brought with him up into his lap and opened it. He removed an ophthalmoscope, flicking the light on as he bent closer to her while positioning his own eye on the other end of it. He used his thumb to push Myra's eyelids up her eyeball, seemingly ignoring the fact that her lid was showing signs of bruising paired with the bruising along her jawline.

"Ah. How delightful," Dr. Crane said as he explored Myra's retina. It was hard to say whether he was deeply interested and amused, or simply bored and apathetic; the delivery of his voice had mild spurts of fluctuation that made it difficult to read his mood.

"What?" Bane asked quickly, crossing his arms over his chest as he inched closer to peer at Dr. Crane's work.

"It appears the temporal part of her brain has been 'shut off'." He mused, switching to examine her other eye as he spoke, before moving back to the original eye. He then simply shone light directly into her eyes to stimulate them and check her retinal reflection.

"What?" Bane asked, dumbfounded; concerned. His arms clenched tighter across his chest.

Crane turned the light off and eased back away from Myra to pause, turning his head to stare at the wall as if digging up an appropriately 'dumbed-down' version of his prognosis to deliver to Bane. It was hard to say, however, whether Bane's questioning 'what' was meant to convey his lack of understanding or that it was simply rhetorical and he was in mild shock.

"I would like to describe it as a self-induced lobotomy," he said simply, amusement riddling his words.

Bane was speechless.

Crane waved a hand at him dismissively, detecting some level of concern from Bane.

"Nowhere _near _as permanent as that, I'm afraid. Her condition is reversable," Crane said, turning back to Myra to give her another pass with the ophthalmoscope.

Bane furrowed his brows at Crane's seemingly semantic and careless wording, waving a hand at him in frustration.

"Go on then. Do your work. What do you prescribe?" Bane said in an obviously annoyed tone.

Crane let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"A licensed doctor would tell you she simply needs therapy…" Crane eased out.

Crane quickly continued when he saw the rage building up in Bane at such a simple, seemingly inconsequential solution.

"…._However_, seeing as I'm not currently licensed, I can tell you frankly her situation _is _quite fascinating and I have a moderate amount of fluency regarding the subject, unlike the vast majority of 'licensed' professionals," Crane confessed as if he were a martyr here to save the day.

"What precisely _happened? How do we fix it?" _Bane snapped, his patience running thin.

Crane adjusted the glasses that were slipping off of his nose to pear sternly at Bane.

"In her case, it's a very unique occurrence of when the mind digresses into itself as a self-defense mechanism in the event of extreme trauma or shock. It helps the victim to distance themselves mentally. While that kind of trauma isn't particularly unique, per say, what makes _her _situation unique -_the self-induced disconnection of her temporal lobe – _is that it usually only happens when their mind's fear threshold reaches its capacity due to harm inflicted by someone close to them, usually by a relative or family member," Cane said in an almost lecture-like tone, finished with a seemingly indifferent shrug of his shoulder.

Bane just stood there, either speechless or frozen as he waited for Crane to continue.

"Unfortunately, shutting off that part of the temporal lobe of the brain – specifically, the amygdala – affects other functions, like memory and attention. The amygdala is her center of emotional processing; it will affect simple basic emotions like fear and love. She'll be in a vegetative state for quite some time until she receives some type of stimuli to her brain. Or when she dies," Crane said simply, as if he could care less what actually happened to her.

Bane didn't particularly like the use of the word 'victim by Crane to describe Myra. Or even more impactfully, the word 'died'. He also simply wanted him to get on with it and come up with a quick remedy that didn't require death. Bane shuffled on his feet, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper into the hardware of his mask.

"Just. _Fix. _This," Bane eased out, holding himself back from losing his temper due to the combined onslaught of impatience and the emotional impact of the varied diagnosis being pummeled at him like an onslaught concerning Myra.

Crane's eyes lit up; it was very clear to Bane that the 'unlicensed, private sector, fear-studying masochist'-side of Crane took over. He turned to look at Bane with a knowing gleam in his eye.

"Lucky for you, you wisely called upon a specialist. I have a drug that will do the trick. The drug is actually of my own design; I'm quite proud of it, to be honest. This drug will help stimulate the electrical connections in her brain and re-establish ones that need to be reinvigorated; I would not, I repeat, I would _not _keep her on this medication for more than a week. It's not healthy for the brain to be stimulated medically for a prolonged period of time. The patients that I had prescribed to it that took it longer than a week tended to…hmmm, what's the best word? Implode?" Crane said with pride before finishing with a responsible note of caution in his voice.

Bane stared at him, wringing his hands against his biceps.

"Will it… have side effects if she's pregnant?" Bane said reluctantly, not wanting to have to divulge too much regarding Myra's condition.

"It shouldn't" Crane said with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

The glare Bane gave him made him re-evaluate his wording.

"It _won't._ She won't be taking it long enough for it to have negative prolonged side effects on a developing fetus. The drug also won't initially take affect for a few days. She will be undoubtedly confused and disoriented when she does come around," Crane said simply.

Crane stood up from his seat on the bed, putting the ophthalmoscope back into his black bag before closing it.

"I'd actually be interested to study her more, if you don't mind. I always love a good temporal-threshold disconnect case….I unfortunately haven't had many cases of it to study since, again, it usually only happens to victims who had suffered abuse and trauma from close family members or relatives….unfortunately those roles are hard to manufacture from a clinical perspective, so I haven't been able to experiment on individuals who had suffered from the occurrence thoro-….." Crane began saying, before he was cut off from being physically manhandled and shoved out of the bedroom, down the hall, and out the front door of the master suite in a whirlwind by Bane's massive fists.

"_Get out,_" Bane seethed.

Crane prevented himself from being fully shoved out the door by locking a hand on the frame of the door, quickly peering back at Bane.

"Perhaps just a few experiments…? Can you retrieve her family member? I have a few questions…" Crane offered with hope and longing in his voice.

"_NO. _I expect you to deliver the drugs within one hour or I will have a man sent for you _and you won't find it an enjoyable experience," _Bane hissed, slamming the door, just barely missing the hastily retracted fingers of Dr. Jonathan Crane.

One of Bane's men returned approximately an hour later with several glass vials of medicine that could be directly dispensed into the IV drip that Myra was connected to along with a plastic bottle of oral tablets of the drug. Bane wasted no time giving her a first dose. He was dutiful in providing her a dose every morning thereafter.

* * *

When Barsad got back from his trip visiting his wife, he came back to chaos. He learned about what Myra did, which to be honest didn't entirely surprise him. He also secretly had wished she was perhaps even successful because that would mean he got to spend more time with his wife. And perhaps he wouldn't die, of course.

Bane had requested that Barsad take over the job of overseeing Myra so that he could go and see to things that needed tending to off-site. Barsad seemed reluctant at first, but as usual, did as he was asked without even questioning what was wrong with Myra. Bane only instructed him to watch her, make sure she didn't leave his sight, and to alert him if she got up.

When Bane came back later in the evening to relieve Barsad of his duties, Barsad gave him a critical look that very clearly begged the question of what the hell was wrong with her.

"You...tortured her? How?" Barsad inquired quietly and awkwardly, slightly confused, not believing what he was asking but needing validation and further insight into the situation.

Barsad's 'how' was meant to convey that he was interested to know what kind of techniques Bane used against her so that he could then proceed to address and treat her appropriately with that added bit of information into Myra's psyche. However, it came out as if he were simply flabbergasted; how could Bane _do_ that to her.

All of the signs very clearly indicated that that was exactly what Bane did; Barsad saw the faint discoloration of bruising along her jaw and the slight swell of her eyelid. She was obviously very much in a self-induced comatose state. Quite frankly, Barsad was shocked and mortified.

Barsad had felt that Myra had existed on an invisible plane that meant she wouldn't have to worry about being hurt or harmed by Bane. Barsad knew the things she had done for Bane; she intervened when the three Gotham Police officers had initially came to extract her from the hostage situation in the closet, essentially sacrificing a part of her deeply established morals and mental wellbeing to ensure Bane didn't get hurt. Barsad had no doubt that Bane would have escaped that situation alive; not totally unscathed perhaps but with an accompanying bullet wound, for Bane was a highly trained killer. He was trained by the League of Shadows. Three Gotham Police officers was nothing to him. Myra didn't know that though. She had assumed Bane was about to die.

Aside from that instance, Myra had saved Bane's life, no question, when she stabbed the undercover officer in the neck with a pen when Bane became incapacitated due to the dislodgement of the hardware on his mask. If Myra hadn't intervened, there is no doubt in Barsad's mind that Bane wouldn't be alive today.

Barsad didn't feel that Myra's actions were meant as a slight against Bane; Barsad assumed that Myra probably assumed that Bane would never find out, and if the neutron bomb failed to go off then they would just shrug their shoulders and abandon their pursuit. Part of Myra's stipulation with the Special Forces was that they not make any attempts on Bane's life.

Barsad felt like he failed as Bane's right-hand man by not being there to stop or guide him away from a very destructive path that he would undoubtedly very much regret later - which was assuming quite a lot, because Bane rarely regretted anything he did in life.

Bane looked affronted when asked the question, turning his head to Barsad.

"No, I…." Bane began, about to explain what it was he actually did.

He didn't physically hurt her beyond the aggressive handling and bruising he gave her along her jaw and wrist and perhaps her eyelid as well as forcing water down her throat. Those weren't life-threatening injuries, though, so that made it justifiable – right? He didn't threaten to kill her; he mostly just used words. From his perspective, he felt like he most certainly didn't torture her.

Scare her, perhaps. Jostle her around physically a bit to drive home his point; he even restrained himself from crushing or breaking her, which was a foreign act for him: restraint. He didn't get where he was today through restraint. He had specifically spared Myra any excessive perceived malice and pain by directing it to the three Special Forces officers he had strung up on the bridge instead. He had even felt a moderate level of justification in his actions; she had undermined -_betrayed _\- him, went behind his back, and attempted to dismantle months - _years_ \- of work. She abused the trust he held for her.

Bane turned his head away, not finishing his answer, not wanting to contemplate the truth and reality of the situation. Barsad eyed him expectantly, waiting for confirmation but realized he wasn't going to get one. Barsad gave Bane an extremely uncharacteristic look of disappointment before exiting.

* * *

The next day, Bane had left Barsad in charge of Myra again. He did notice Myra's fingers and toes periodically curling and uncurling and she even rotated her body in bed to lie in a different position during the night. She didn't open her eyes the following morning as he was briefing Barsad before he left the master suite, however. Despite this, he knew it was progress and that the combined efforts of fluids and drugs into her system were helping. She still hadn't eaten yet, however; _that _notion was a dark cloud that persisted over his head wherever he went.

When Bane returned later that evening, he immediately beelined to the bedroom. He was shocked to see that Myra was not in the bed. He then did a very cursory search before heading to the kitchen. He rounded the corner to the surprising spectacle of Myra sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of food that looked slightly picked over with her catheter and IV bags resting on the table next to her with Barsad sitting across from her.

While it was true that she still looked morose, lethargic, and in a seemingly emotionless state, it was obvious that she was making improvements. She even turned her head to look at him when he entered, though she immediately turned her head away dismissively. Bane wasn't bothered by the dismissiveness; that meant that at least she was thinking and feeling enough to be dismissive.

Barsad immediately stood up to exit, leaving Myra at the table. Her eyes followed him as he got up. Her eyes were wide and confused as they followed him, not quite understanding why this person was leaving her with this other vastly more threatening-looking person. It was obvious she didn't have full recognition of who these individuals were in the kitchen, though she would squint and stare as if she were having periodic bouts of clarity.

Barsad dealt with things in a drastically different manner than Bane; Bane liked being aggressive, up-close, invading someone's personal space with ferocity and unbridled rage. Bane was also a physically imposing presence; if you had never seen him before, his large mass toppled with the frightening mask and hardware he wore would definitely leave you uncomfortable. When he spoke, that was the icing on the cake; he was loud, clear, and often intimidating to those uninitiated in the art of 'Bane'.

Barsad was almost the complete opposite. He liked observing from afar, preferring to deal with threats from a higher vantage point with a sniper rifle. He did not like invading people's personal spaces, getting close to people, or displaying the range of rage that tended to be Bane's signature. In fact, Barsad tended to respond to threats with the same emotional range he tended to deal with everything else in his life; with a somewhat bored, passive indifference to the situation. Barsad was also considerably less imposing of a figure compared to Bane. He had a softer voice and his eyes were in a constant state of almost bored sadness that made them soft and gentle. He also didn't look threatening, despite his lethal capabilities.

It was safe to say assume which of these two figures, in her present and confused mindset, were more appealing than the other.

When Barsad got up to leave, Myra got up too. She quickly shuffled close behind Barsad, her footsteps masked by the thick knitted socks that sheathed her feet. The combination of her lethargy and recovering dehydration made her movements awkward and clumsy. Her catheter and IV bags seemed to have been briefly forgotten as they got tugged and then dropped and plopped to the floor and got dragged behind her by their tubes like two neglected leashed pets. She latched on to Barsad's arm to steady herself when she caught up to him. Barsad stopped when he realized Myra meant to follow him out the front door. Barsad turned around quickly, bringing his hands up to stop her from continuing her trajectory. Her eyes were directed to the floor, but she lifted them when Barsad impeded her movement forward.

She moved herself so that Barsad's body was shielding her from Bane's very pointed and seemingly intimidating stare. Bane observed this subtle movement with a pang in his chest. Bane then heard Myra hurriedly mumble something to Barsad. Barsad gave her a concerned look before replying in a voice loud enough for Bane to overhear, too.

"He's not going to hurt you…I promise," Barsad eased out awkwardly.

Bane strained his ears to hear the reply from Myra, but all he could make out was a muffled mumbling that she was silently directing towards Barsad.

Barsad responded by rubbing her shoulders in a seemingly encouraging manner.

"No, you can't come with me, I'm afraid. You need to stay here," Barsad said somewhat bashfully and sadly. It was obvious Barsad's comfort level was reaching its threshold.

Myra was silent, turning her head away. Barsad gave her one last rub of her shoulders before exiting, leaving her standing awkwardly with the feeling of abandonment overtaking her with her gaze to the floor and her shoulders slumped. The tubing that connected from her body to her catheter and IV bag looked like she was attached to morose deflated balloons.

Bane felt his insides constrict, conflicted at feeling joy that she was finally up and speaking but saddened that she very obviously wished for nothing more than to run outside the front door. Run away from _him_.

When Barsad finally retreated, Myra no longer had something or someone to hide behind, leaving her exposed. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet before turning her head to the side. Myra felt Bane's eyes on her, evaluating her and scouring her face to look at the fading bruising. Feeling self-conscious of her injuries, she turned her face away and brought a hand up to cover the side that featured the faintly swollen eyelid.

Bane was numb, too numb to stop her as she quickly shuffled away to retreat back to the safety of the bedroom, her catheter and IV bag dragging precariously behind her on the floor.

* * *

The following day when Barsad once again relieved Bane of Myra's care, it was obvious Myra seemed cautious and reluctant around Bane though it was clear she didn't know why. She seemed to be opening up to Barsad, however, since he had never left her with any perceived negative feelings or thoughts to dwell on. He also was vastly less intimidating and imposing visually than Bane was. In fact, she started questioning Barsad's relationship with her. While she couldn't recollect fully how she knew him or what he was to her, she felt undeniably safe around him; and that feeling of safety made her feel open and warm. It gave her nostalgia. She also knew her situation in the master suite indicated she lived there and cohabitated it with someone else; a friend? A relative? A partner? A lover? Was Barsad that person?

She stood in the hallway with Barsad, deep in thought with her eyes to the floor when her eyes suddenly snapped to focus on him. He returned her gaze steadily, searching her face, noticing some sort of spark or recognition take hold of her face. For some reason, the look she gave him made him incredibly uneasy.

Then she did something he wasn't expecting; she reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand, stroking and exploring the bearded texture of his chin and cheek with her fingers with her brows slightly furrowed together in concentration. She tried desperately to capture some tactile feeling of recognition in her touch but seemed to be having difficulty.

Barsad's eyes grew large, unable to determine Myra's intentions as she inched herself closer to him as if she were trying to suck out the feeling of 'safety' and 'warmth' right out of his lips that flowed through her from Barsad's presence. Her eyes fixated on his mouth as she brought her other hand up to cup his other cheek to hold his face while she inched closer.

Of course, that was precisely the moment that Bane walked in. What he saw was Myra's back to him with her hands cupping Barsad's in an intimate and loving gesture; a gesture he hadn't seen her exhibit in days. A gesture reserved for _him. _However, she was performing it on someone else.

His initial reaction wasn't rage or anger; it was anguish and heartache. It was a feeling that reached so far deep into his chest that he had difficulty breathing as he watched Myra learn up towards Barsad ardently. Barsad's eyes had been focused on Myra, the look of shock, discomfort, and confusion evident on his face. Then they looked up and locked onto Bane's.

Barsad was not one who frightened easily. This trait was the thing that Bane liked most about him; his calm when faced with a raging storm. It would be a lie, however, to say that Barsad didn't simply wet himself as Bane's face very quickly transitioned into unadulterated rage as his eyes locked onto Barsad's.

Barsad hastily shoved Myra away from him towards Bane's direction as if to say, "Here! I don't want her! She's yours!".

Bane stormed at him, angrily pushing Myra aside. Barsad just barely ducked and maneuvered from the punch from Bane that ended up buried in the wall. Myra stumbled clumsily on her feet from the aggressive shove, catching herself from falling by bringing a hand out to the wall to steady herself. Bane yanked his hand clean from the wall and rounded on Barsad, searching for him, undeniably blinded and seething with fury, betrayal, and rage. The sound coming through his mask was like a large bellows that fueled oxygen into an equally very large furnace.

Bane suddenly stopped, however, when another sound broke his concentration. It was the soft sound of air being expelled through tightly gritted teeth. He turned and saw Myra crouched down squatting with her hands over her ears as she began rocking back and forth on the balls and toes of her feet. Her eyes were shut tightly as if trying to shut out all external stimuli because it was causing her obvious discomfort. Bane realized he was that 'discomfort'.

Bane released a few more angry breaths through his mask before he craned his neck back to Barsad, giving him a glare that very clearly indicated he had better leave.

Barsad reciprocated the glare; he was angry at the situation of being unable to defend himself, at having to watch Myra like a babysitter, the uncomfortableness of wearing soiled pants, and angry at Myra's obvious discomfort. He needed no further encouragement to exit the master suite.

* * *

Later that evening, Myra eased herself out of bed without assistance to fetch herself some water. Bane was at first confused by the movement in the bed, startling awake, but watched her as she shuffled to the mini bar at the other end of the master bedroom rather clumsily as she knocked into and bumped furniture due to the darkness consuming the room. She filled herself a glass and took petite sips before shuffling back into bed. Bane stared at her, concern washing over his face. That was _his _job. Did she not remember? Or had she taken that responsibility from him, deeming him no longer sufficient or worthy of lavishing her with simple affections and favors? He continued to stare at her as she slid into bed without looking in his direction, cradling the catheter and IV bags in her arms like a teddy bear.

* * *

Bane relieved Barsad of his 'babysitting' duties the next morning, figuring he deserved a well-deserved break considering how events transpired the previous day. He observed, however, that Myra had taken to nervous ticks, particularly chewing on her nails and pulling her hair out.

It was obvious she didn't know she was doing it; Bane would catch her grinding her nail down to a bloody pulp. He would pull her hand away from her mouth, asking her to stop, and the look of confusion on her face indicated she didn't quite know what it was he was asking of her. Her expression would then transition into distorted pain and embarrassment at the disappointment he was visibly directing towards her, her eyes quickly shooting to stare at the floor.

The same with her hair; she would be scratching her scalp idly, pulling several strands out here and there in the process. Bane checked to ensure she didn't have head lice or some rash, and seeing that there was none, deemed her activities simply compulsive. He decided to make an attempt at negating her behavior.

Later in the afternoon, Bane had a package delivered up to him which he retrieved at the door. He then went into the bedroom and observed that Myra appeared to be napping. He circled around to her side of the bed and saw indicators that she was awake from the slow rise of her eyelids as she stared blankly up at him. Bane sat himself on the floor next to her, reaching out and grabbing one of her hands gingerly. He was pleased when she didn't attempt to recoil or reclaim her hand.

"Look what I brought for you. Some nail polishes. I thought you might like your nails to be done?" Bane offered, placing three different bottles of very old and vintage-looking bottles on the bed in front of Myra. Myra simply stared, unresponsive, confusion causing her brows to knit together.

"Which one would you like?" Bane asked lightheartedly.

Myra didn't move or offer an opinion. She did have a general look of confusion, perhaps questioning why such a large imposing man was asking her about her favorite nail polish color. She simply stared with lids that half covered her eyes at him, deciding not to acknowledge the nail polish bottles in front of her perhaps because she thought she was hallucinating.

"That one? Excellent choice; it matches your tone," Bane offered, trying to come up with arbitrary phrases regarding color pairing and skin tone.

He reached forward and grabbed one of the less ugly colors, which was simply a bright pink. He gave the bottle a good shake to mix the contents before he unscrewed the top to reveal a brush with a glob of nail polish. He then reclaimed her hand and began gingerly painting her nails, delicately holding the brush between two large meaty fingers. Myra continued to stare, though her eyes did shift down to stare at his work on her fingernails.

Bane was clumsy, imprecise, and messy. More polish seemed to get on her skin than on her actual nails. It should be noted, however, that he did try. He even held her hand and attempted to fan her nails with his large hand to expedite the drying process when he was done with her first hand. He repeated the painting process on her other hand, which she seemed to relinquish obligingly, though she didn't do much beyond staring and silently watching.

When Bane was fully done, he gathered the bottles up off of the bed and put them on the bedside table.

"Don't chew on those. That nail polish is poisonous," he said sternly, using his finger to point at her nails. Of course it wasn't poisonous; he simply wanted her to stop chewing her nails down to a bloody pulp.

He watched as Myra eyes became wide with concern before they eventually closed as an indicator that she simply just wanted to go back to sleep. Bane sighed, his eyes darting from her face to her nails and then back to her face again.

To remedy her hair situation, he decided to make attempts at pulling her hair back into a tight braid rather than letting her hair go loose with a set of wild frizzy hair that had become the norm due to her back-seat approach at self-care and grooming practices. He wasn't an expert, but he didn't want anyone encroaching in their living space, so he had to do the work himself regardless. He even managed to get Myra to sit up for him as he sat behind her and started brushing her hair before he could dive in and make an attempt at braiding her hair.

As he was brushing her hair, he accidentally snagged a clump of hair which caused a few strands to get yanked from her scalp abruptly.

"_OW!" _Myra shouted in a rare verbal display, bringing both hands up to the top of her head to touch the spot where she undoubtedly had slightly less hair than she did before. Her eyes clenched closed in annoyance and pain, moisture erupting at the corner of her eyes.

Bane, however, grew incredibly still and intense. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head at causing her such sudden acute pain from such a simple act. His intent was to engage in a lighthearted activity that also had a logical purpose that couldn't hurt or cause her to be even angrier at him than she may already be. He dropped the brush and reached forward to guide her head to lie backwards into his lap. He looked down and saw Myra's eyes clenched closed in pure annoyance, her hands never leaving her scalp. Then realization spread across her face, her face easing as she stared up at him.

"You…hurt me," she eased out tentatively, hints of confusion still present, but clarity driving her tone.

It was obvious she wasn't talking about the hurt she sustained from the clump of hair missing on her head. She was very clearly having a moment of lucidity as she stared up at him, searching his eyes.

Bane's breath stilled as he looked down at her, seeing the brightness and comprehension in her eyes. He stroked her face while he leaned forward, his eyes full of regret and pain.

"I know_….I'm sorry…" _Bane breathed out quickly in a rare verbal apology, making attempts at massaging the area where she had suffered some hair loss from his clumsy brushing. He cradled her head in his lap.

"…._please forgive me,_" Bane breathed out in a hushed tone. It was obvious his apology wasn't simply meant to apologize for the clump of hair he accidentally yanked from her head; it was for all of the times he had hurt her.

Bane swallowed deeply in his throat before continuing, feeling uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

"You hurt me too, don't you remember?" Bane said sincerely, running the back of his fingers along her cheek before bending to touch his forehead against hers for several seconds before leaning back up to gaze down at her. The look Myra gave back to him transitioned back into confusion; _I hurt him? _

"I did? How?" she asked, confused.

"Yes. The person I care for so _deeply _contrived to undermine the work that I spent _years _developing, perfecting, and sacrificing for…" He eased out.

Myra's eyes roamed his, confusion still laced in her expression as if she were waiting for him to continue on with his statement, unsure of where she stood in terms of his declaration; unsure if it was her that he was referring to.

"Who was that?" she asked eventually, astounded at the prospect that someone would do something that horrid sounding to him.

"_You_, you silly creature," he said, bringing a hand up to tug and stroke her ear playfully.

Myra just stared skeptically at him.

"Me?" she asked, incredulous that she would do such a thing – that she could _be _such a thing, _to him_.

Deep creases lined Bane's eyes.

"Yes, you," he breathed out simply, touching his forehead with hers again gently before easing his head back to look at her.

Myra scrunched up her face in disgust; not because she was appalled by the notion of him caring for her; she was appalled at the notion that she had hurt someone that cared for her. _So deeply. _

"Was I…was I successful?" she eased out shyly, unsure.

Bane continued to stroke her cheek.

"No," he said simply.

Myra's face relaxed considerably as she let out a loud relieved breath through her mouth.

"Thank _GOD," _she said, bringing a hand up to her chest as if to catch her breath.

Bane simply stared at her, knowing she couldn't fathom what it was she was saying or implying; he knew she wanted to – _needed to _– save the lives of Gotham, and that when the eventual realization that her plans failed caught up with her, she would be devastated. He decided to enjoy her blissful ignorance while it lasted.

"Let's agree not to hurt each other again. Agreed?" he whispered to her through his mask.

Myra stared up at him, searching his face before slowly nodding.

With her physical queue, Bane eased her head up. He then pulled her bodily into his lap, encouraging her to wrap and hold her arms around his neck. She was somewhat reluctant at first but clung reflexively after several seconds of absorbing the comfort and feel of the gesture.

Bane brought his head down to nestle against the side of hers as he rocked his body back and forth, lulling and coaxing her into a sense of wellbeing and undeniable safety only his strong arms could afford her. He cupped and moved her face inward to his chest as if to shield her eyes from a visual physical embodiment of all of her worries and cares.

The embrace that Bane gave her was the most reassuring, soothing, and satisfying thing she could ever possibly fathom. It was as if he were absorbing all of her worries and fears. It made her inexplicably protected, sheltered, and _safe; 'home'.. _His arms circling around her created an invisible shield from which the negative, upsetting, and confusing thoughts that had been bombarding her mind as of late couldn't penetrate. The rocking motion of his body pacified and subdued her mind into a state of serene, blissful calm.

It was a considerable amount of time before Myra eventually dislodged herself from his arms with obvious reluctance. She scooted herself to sit in front of him with her back to him, peeking over her shoulder.

"My hair's not done," she said coyly.

Bane let out an agreeable sigh through his mask. He quickly grabbed the brush and resumed brushing her hair albeit considerably more cautiously than he had before. He didn't do anything fancy; he did a very loose braid down the back and tied it off at the end with some loose string. Myra brought her hand back to feel the braid in her hair before she relaxed her shoulders, seemingly satisfied, letting out a yawn.

Bane held onto her shoulders and gently guided her head back down into his lap. Bane brushed his hand over her forehead in soothing, calming strokes, encouraging her to close her eyes, relax, and fall asleep. He began humming down at her in a soft and raspy slow variant of a tune Myra couldn't quite place, her brows furrowing in concentration as she made attempts at identifying it. As her eyes lulled close, she finally pinpointed the song; _'You are my sunshine'. _

When Myra eventually fell asleep with her head nestled in Bane's lap, he moved her cautiously to her side of the bed under the covers, where he promptly joined her. He took considerable care not to jostle or disturb her since the placid look that took over her features was the first he'd seen in days.

During the night, Myra started stirring. Her brows furrowed together at the need for some water as she was very clearly thirsty. She half rolled her body towards Bane, her eyes closed as she did so, before asking her question quietly into the darkened bedroom.

"Can you get me some – " Myra started to mumble out, but quickly shot her eyes open at sudden rustling.

Myra saw that Bane was already halfway across the room to the mini bar, scrambling to get her water like his life depended on it. Myra's eyes stared at the spectacle, unsure of what she was seeing since her eyes hadn't properly adjusted to the dark.

He rushed at her with the cup in his hand, practically spilling half of the contents of the water as he did so in order to expedite the process of bringing her water.

Bane knelt down next to her side of the bed, presenting her with the glass of water in a huff from the physical exertion of the pace he chose to use to complete the chore, beads of sweat starting to line his brow. Myra eyed him before sitting up in bed and grabbing the glass of water from Bane. She continued to eye him as she took several soft delicate sips from the glass before putting it on her bedside table.

"May I get you anything else?" Bane said in a huff, his hands rested on the bed next to her for support as he reclaimed his composure.

Myra just stared at him flabbergasted, her eyebrows furrowed together at the incredibly odd and admittedly amusing display. Her stomach started rumbling.

Before she could even think to say anything, Bane was already up and practically sprinting out of the room. She continued to sip her water, her eyes roaming around awkwardly as she waited for several minutes. After idling for a while, she put her glass of water on her night side table and eased back into bed to continue sleeping. She was softly jostled awake approximately an hour later.

She startled, confused, turning her head to see Bane kneeling by her bedside with a tray. She eased herself up and saw an array of some of her favorite food items. She stared at it, blinking slowly before she eased forward and began eating the food tentatively as Bane held the handles of the tray on the edge of her side of the bed. Bane continued to kneel on the floor, staring at her while she ate.

After she felt sufficiently full, she started wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"Finished so soon? You should have a nibble of the grilled cheese before it gets cold…" Bane coaxed, trying to encourage her to eat as much food – _nutrients – _as possible, for multiple and some soon to be very obvious reasons.

Myra simply eyed him skeptically but did as he asked by taking several bites from the sandwich before putting it down on the tray after having her fill. Bane then pointed at another food item that sat untouched on the tray.

"What about some of that cooked salmon? It's delicious," Bane encouraged. He even began cutting it for her before she even had a proper chance at indicating she wanted some. He held the fork up to her lips encouragingly, where she tentatively opened her mouth. He inserted the tip of the fork into her mouth delicately, letting her bite down on the salmon before he repeated the process several more times.

"Look here…one of your favorites…scrambled egg. Just a little taste for me, hmm?" he coaxed, repeating the process by cutting her food and offering her the tip of the loaded fork like a mama bird feeding a hatchling. She simply opened her mouth, bit down, chewed, and swallowed the contents obediently with her eyes half closed in sleepy contentment.

When he went to cut her some a baked sweet potato, she held up her hand to stop him.

"I'm really _really _full…I'm going to vomit…no more, please," she said, bringing a hand up to her mouth to prevent herself from burping.

Bane looked at her, significantly satisfied with the amount of food she was able to intake. He watched as she took one last sip of water before easing herself back into bed. He put the tray on her bedside table in case she wanted to eat more later.

"May I get you anything else?" he asked her, slightly hovering.

Myra's eyes roamed from the tray he set on her table up to his eyes, staring at him bashfully.

"No, thank you. Come back to bed," Myra said simply, continuing to eye him.

Bane released a large huff from his chest before he circled back to his side of the bed. Myra laid back down with her head comfortably against the pillow, closing her eyes. When he was settled in bed, he reached out hesitantly and tentatively to grab Myra by the shoulders. Myra didn't resist as she was slowly guided back into a spooning position against Bane's chest. Bane wrapped an arm across her middle and rested his hand against her stomach. After several minutes, Myra used her free hand to bring back and curl softly over his wrist in a very subtle display of affection before prompting falling asleep.

* * *

_**Author: OMG SHE STILL DOESN'T KNOW YOU GUYS AHHHHHH. Will Talia find out? How do you think she'll take it? Also, review :D There is a direct correlation between reviews and how fast I churn out the next chapter. So plleeaaase review! T_T My 'motivation juices' get drastically depleted! Only reviews by you can replenish meeeeee! **_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13**_

**_Author: Thanks to the lovely louisapallot, Siennax3, Kai, Greenj3llo85, Kat, DOPAndrea, WickedlyMinx, and mynameistolong for your incredibly supportive, encouraging, and motivating reviews. I gathered them all up and stuck 'em in a stew that helped fuel my ol' nogging into finishing this next chapter here. SO ENJOY THE PRODUCT OF YOUR STEW YOU GUYS. :) :) :) (Also, Kai, I SEE YOU PEAKING YOUR HEAD THERE LIKE A BADGER. Well done. That was literally a nice lil' kick in the butt to be like, "ARRGH RIGHT!" I had a moment where I was basically a child wandering around aimlessly in a store, distracted by other shiny things for a moment there. Good thing you badger came along to provide me reinvigorated focus otherwise who knows what would have happened :P KEEP IT UP. -badger sticker- ) (I would also like to personally thanks the lovely Siennax3 for letting me ramble about nonsensical bits that may or may not mostly have to do with Tom Hardy. YOU ARE A GODSEEEENDDDD I DON'T KNOW HOW ELSE I WOULD BE ABLE TO SATISFY MY TOM HARDY/BANE TALKING FIX WITHOUT YOUUUU -passes out-)_**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 16 Days

During the middle of the night, Bane woke up to the movement and sound of thrashing. He eased himself forward in bed to survey the source of the thrashing. His eyes quickly diverted to Myra, who seemed to be suffering from a night terror. His brows knitted together in understandable concern; she was not prone to nightmares or physically flailing about while asleep.

Bane reached out to grab and shake her by the shoulders, ignoring the feeble onslaught of punches and blows against his chest. He gave her a gentle but firm shake to wake her up, leaning his head down to hiss into her face.

"_Wake up," _he wheezed out, giving her one more firm shake.

Myra's eyes shot open to stare up into Bane's concerned face. She stared in the darkness for seconds as her eyes adjusted to the dark, her body as stiff as a wooden plank. Then, after her eyes and mind had ample time to adjust and appraise the situation, she started sobbing.

Bane leaned forward to ensnare her in a gentle embrace, pulling and guiding her body into and over his. He moved a hand to cup the back of her head and began providing her scalp deep strokes with his fingers, moving his head to settle right alongside hers as he began sighing out soothing sounds from his mask directly into her ear.

Myra reached out timidly to ensnare his neck with both of her arms so she could hide her face into his chest. She was breathing as if she couldn't get quite enough oxygen into her lungs, as if on the verge of hyperventilating. She made several attempts at swallowing back her anxieties before she finally stammered into his chest.

"He's going to hurt me…" she sobbed out.

Bane furrowed his brows in concern, circling his arm behind her lower back to support her body up against his. He continued to massage her scalp for several moments before his sleepy brain finally caught up with what she was actually saying. He blinked slow and hard several times, making a hands-free attempt at wiping away the dew that seemed to have settled over his eyes from a combination of sleep and from a drastically different, considerably more emotional reason.

"Who? Who's going to hurt you?" he asked softly as he turned his head back to direct his mask into her ear, concern laced in his tone though in reality he already knew who - or _what _\- it was she was afraid of.

Myra's fingers curled and grasped at the back of his head where his mask interfaced with the base of his skull. She inhaled several sharp breaths through her nose in an obvious attempt at sucking in liquid and mucus that was dripping down her lip.

"The _monster_…" Myra sobbed out gently, her eyes tightly shut closed.

Bane shut his eyes, taking several deep breaths to steady himself as he focused on calming his mind. He slowly opened his eyes after regaining control, uncupping her head and loosening his grip behind her lower back to look down and appraise her. He wiped away the wet matted hair that coated her face with his fingers so she could see him clearly. She slowly opened her eyes to look up into his.

"Shh...I vow there are no monsters here that can hurt you…that would _dare _to hurt you..." he soothed into her face.

Myra stared back, her eyelids heavy over her eyes from the moisture and emotional burden that they carried. Her eyes roamed over his face for several moments before they settled on his expressive eyes. The look he gave her pacified her considerably as she uncurled her fingers from behind his head, dragging her hand down the front of his chest before settling it on her own chest as if she were trying to catch her breath.

After seeing Myra visibly settle down, he released her from his arms and sat up to get out of bed. Myra's eyes followed him as he knelt down on the floor next to Myra's side of the bed, making a show of stooping further down to look under the bed.

"Nay. No monsters under the bed…" he said lightheartedly.

He then sat up with a slight groan of exertion before he walked across to the closet, using his hands to jostle around the hung clothing in the closet, being thorough with his search.

"Any monsters here? No...I didn't think so…." Bane eased out, his head moving back and forth to check the corners of the closet.

He marched back to bed, sliding himself under the covers and closer to Myra. Myra was sitting up on the bed with the blanket draped over her head, holding it right under her chin, creating a tent-like protective barrier as her eyes followed him. She got out of bed abruptly after Bane seemed to settle down to get comfortable.

"...I don't want to sleep in here," Myra eased out uncomfortably, grabbing at a pillow and blanket as she did so and turned to leave the bedroom with the long blanket trailing behind her.

Bane stared at her. He had to fight back the urge to question her motives and potential ridiculousness of her request. Instead, he simply got out of bed too. Bane noted her eyes seemed to dart anxiously towards the lone computer chair in the middle of the bedroom, and the destroyed TV; the same furniture and TV he had sat her down in to make her watch the Special Forces being hung on the bridge.

She hurried past them like she was crossing a mote full of alligators. Bane grabbed a pillow for himself before following her out the bedroom, indifferent as to whether she wished for him to join her or not. He found her in the living room, staring at the couch with concern on her face at the missing couch cushion which would undoubtedly make it more difficult and uncomfortable to lie on.

"What happened to the couch cushion?" she asked, confused, anxiety in her voice.

Bane's eyes darted to her. He of course wasn't going to tell her she peed on it; if she didn't or couldn't remember, then it was best to spare her that embarrassment. He moved to the couch and put the one pillow he grabbed in the gap left by the missing cushion.

"I spilled food on it and had it removed. Stay here, I'll fetch more pillows," Bane said before going back to the bedroom.

Instead of going to the bed to fetch the remaining pillows, he marched to one of the windows in the bedroom and propped it open, which required considerable force due to the possibility that they weren't intended to be open or that they hadn't been opened since they were installed. He then went to the computer chair, essentially compressing it down to a size that would allow it to be squeezed through the window with his strength. He ignored the large crunching sounds of destruction as he did this, gathering up the remnants of the chair and marching to the window and chucking it all out with seeming indifference to who may be struck far below by falling debris. He did the same to the destroyed TV, chucking it out the window unceremoniously before wiping his hands and closing the window.

Bane gathered up the pillows and spare blanket on the bed, marching back to the living room. He was greeted to the sight of Myra standing still in front of the couch with a blanket covering her like a giant poncho-tent. He put one more pillow down in the gap on the couch, then one more where his head would go. He eased himself on his back on the couch, ignoring the awkward topography of the missing couch cushion paired with the attempt to fill that gap with the pillows they used for the bedroom. After he adjusted himself, knowing perfectly well he filled up the width of the available couch real estate, he extended an arm to an observant Myra who simply stared and watched his process.

She took his hand tentatively, allowing herself to be guided over him into a prone lying position. Bane ignored the knee that accidentally rammed him in the groin as she made attempts at making herself comfortable over him. After some shuffling, she seemed content and simply let her head fall down onto his chest with her chest resting firmly pressed against his. After several moments, their breathing eventually synced up in unison, making the experience significantly more comfortable and soothing for Myra. She felt her eyes starting to fall, feeling like she was being slowly rocked to sleep by a slow, giant body of water.

Bane tugged the blanket that he had brought up around them, though he let it lie somewhat loose due to the heat that would undoubtedly generate from two bodies sleeping ontop of eachother. He closed his eyes after several moments of fidgeting. He woke up repeatedly throughout the night to Myra's hand either twitching against his skin, abrupt snores due to the angle in which her head was directed downwards against his chest which seemed to disrupt her nasal passage, or her body adjusting over his as she twisted while she slept. He also noted the large glob of saliva that had pooled from her open mouth directly onto his bare chest. He didn't mind any of this, because all of these things told him that she was comfortably and blissfully asleep.

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 14 Days

Several mornings later, Bane was visibly tired from the lack of sleep he had been receiving due to Myra accidentally waking him up intermittently throughout the night. They had relocated back to the bedroom the next day after sleeping on the couch that one night, but Myra seemed perfectly content to just slide over his body like a sloth when they settled in bed, establishing a new habit to simply sleep on top of him since it seemed to suit her. His eyelids drooped over his eyes like heavy curtains, though he didn't seem any less animated in his actions as he prepared breakfast. Bane was conditioned and accustomed to occasionally not receiving a desirable amount of sleep from his time as a mercenary, which tended to work on an erratic schedule.

Myra wasn't as hindered; she seemed awake and lively. With an abundance of _questions. _Myra sat at the kitchen table while Bane finished preparing their breakfast, arranging and serving it on a plate for each of them. He slyly shoveled extra food onto Myra's plate, knowing she needed all of the food she could get into her system. It was obvious based on her slight squirming that she definitely was ready to unload a barrage of questions at him once he had a chance to sit down. She cupped her hands together and fidgeted, eying him as he walked to the table and set a plate in front of her before moving to his side of the table.

Myra was still experiencing bouts of confusion as it pertained to certain aspects of her situation; her recollection of events, names, and locations was still warped. Everything was slowly falling in place, however, and she was anxious to fill in the gaps. Bane knew she would eventually fill these gaps in regardless of whether he decided to assist with answers; she only had two days left before he had to revoke her dosage of drugs and simply let her mind mend itself. He knew how irritatingly impatient she could get, however, and knew if he didn't provide her with some answers then she would very quickly resort to outright pestering and stalking him.

As Bane took off his mask to begin eating the array of breakfast food, Myra began her questioning.

"We're a couple, right…? Boyfriend? Partner? Married….?" Myra asked quickly, trying to establish their foundation.

Bane's eyes flickered to her between the task of eating his food, providing her with a very modest answer and an equally modest nod.

"Yes," he said simply as his eyes moved back to focus on his food.

Myra's brows furrowed. That didn't precisely answer the question; which of those options was she? She decided it was relevant and plowed forth with her next question.

"How did we meet?" she asked candidly.

Bane had been taking a sip of water when she directed her next question at him, and he made an embarrassing and uncharacteristic show of choking. The question, though simple and innocent in nature, could be provided with an answer that could - _would - _ be horribly misconstrued.

He quickly wiped his lips with a napkin before his eyes shifted to hers cautiously.

"We….met….at the Gotham Stock Exchange," he said, treading carefully.

Myra stared at him, her lips working together in a fine line as she worked this out in her mind.

"Oh. Did we both work there?" she asked.

Bane huffed, feeling the air in his lungs get expelled through his lips as he pondered for a decent answer. He also started to feel the harsh side-effects of pain from not wearing his mask. Bane clenched the edge of the table before reaching quickly for his mask to reinstate it. After properly latching the hardware, he turned to her to address her question.

"You worked there. I was just visiting…" he eased out.

Myra continued to look him over thoughtfully.

"Hmmm. I don't remember working there. What were you visiting there for? Was I introduced to you?" Myra asked, so aggravatingly full of _questions_.

Bane simply sat and stared for several moments, his breath making loud wheezing sounds through his mask as he concentrated on a judicious answer.

"I believe you had only been working there for several weeks as an intern when I first met you. You worked for John Daggett. I…." Bane started saying, his voice trailing off, his eyes squinting as he frantically tried to produce some viable answer that wasn't simply "I kidnapped you and made you my hostage".

"….I introduced myself to you. I invited you to my...house.._.office_. You seemed to enjoy my company, and I yours, so we entered into a relationship not soon after. We've had our ups and downs, but you've essentially been with me ever since," he finished. He looked up at her quickly to determine whether she was satisfied with that answer.

Myra stared. She stared _hard. _Her lips began to work together, her eyes beginning to squint. She also began to scrutinize his appearance; she was having a hard time believing that she would be receptive to an invitation to someone's office – especially someone that looked like _Bane – _and incidentally find out that they had an attraction for each other while conducting business. Something seemed odd about that. Her eyes then began to roam around the large luxury kitchen. She then reflected on the master suite itself; it was undeniably luxurious, having rich amenities that would undoubtedly indicate Bane was wealthy. While she most certainly wouldn't _claim _to be a 'Gold Digger', she really could think of no other reason why she perhaps would prolong a visit with a man that looked like…Bane...that perhaps was showing an interest or making possible advances towards her, without there being some other underlying attribute that made him desirable. Being rich was really the only thing she could think of, and even that seemed 'odd' since that had never been on the forefront of her mind when she chose a partner.

"You…invited me here to your office? After I just met you at the stock exchange? And I went? For what?_" _Myra said, purely skeptical and aghast.

Bane diverted his eyes to the table. His eyes began to bulge, nearly popping from their sockets at the interrogation-like nature of questions being directed at him.

"Yes, we conducted...business. I then invited you to my home which you obliged," he said simply.

Myra's head whipped around, taking in her surroundings again before slowly turning back towards him, her expression dubious.

"This is your house?" she asked, sounding somewhat doubtful.

He decided to roll with the notion that the penthouse master suite was 'his' house, figuring that would ease up her scrutiny somewhat.

"Yes. Your boss...came along too. It was a business event. He unfortunately had to leave early, but you were having such a splendid and enjoyable time, you prolonged your visit," Bane eased out.

That answer seemed to make considerably more sense to Myra. Her probing eyes eased up.

"Oh. It was for business then. What kind of business are you involved with, exactly?" Myra asked.

Bane brought a hand up to pinch his fingers over his eyes.

"Project management," Bane replied simply.

Myra forked a mouthful of her food and began to chew it slowly while eyeing him. She then let her eyes roam around her surroundings again. They were extravagant; very obvious, expensive tastes. They were on the top floor of a penthouse building. It was undoubtedly, _obnoxiously, _expensive. She then moved her eyes back to Bane.

"Your...project management job allows you to afford this kind of place?" Myra asked somewhat suspiciously.

Bane cleared his throat before providing a clear, confident answer.

"Certainly," he said, giving her a steady confident gaze.

Myra's eyes widened somewhat, her mouth forming into a line before she slowly turned her attention back to the food in front of her as an indicator that she was seemingly satisfied with his response. Bane let out a relieved sigh. Her questioning wasn't over quite yet, however.

"How did the event of us becoming a couple actually happen…? Not to imply that you don't seem just…absolutely…charming…. I'm just curious. I can't imagine being overly flirtatious at a business event; were you? You don't strike me as the 'flirty' type either..." Myra gushed out stupidly.

It was a fair question, she told herself, as her eyes roamed over his sinister-looking mask, hardware, and his overall bald, muscular physique.

Bane cleared his throat loudly.

"I believe…you became smitten with me…. after... a rousing game of Scrabble that we had played together," Bane eased out.

He saw Myra's shoot up in interest, her eyes sparkling and focused with a soft smile forming on her lips.

"What? Really?" she asked excitedly.

Bane become emboldened by her apparent enthusiasm.

"Oh yes. My apparent charm and guile knocked your socks off. You swooned. You practically fell right out of your chair, if I recall correctly. You kept giving me doey eyes. You were also very persistent with your affections. I even acted the gentleman and established clear boundaries and politely declined your initial advances towards me," he said with such smooth confidence.

Myra's mouth fell open, gasping loudly, and stood up from her chair abruptly which caused it to fall backwards. She pointed an accusing finger at him.

"_I DID NOT," _she shouted, shaking her finger at him.

That blatant indignant lie triggered the electrical connections in her brain; they practically sparked in indignation. She quickly covered a hand over her mouth as clarity overtook her features. Then she narrowed her eyes after realizing she had been fed blatant misleading answers up to that point.

"_WHAT? _Invited me to your '_OFFICE'_, huh? Is that your interpretation of the events? _Really?_ You kidnapped me. _I was your HOSTAGE," _Myra fumed, her finger wagging.

She then went into full-throttle.

"Knocked me off of my socks? Oh my gosh. Give me a _BREAK_. You knocked _NO ONE _off of their socks, unless you count the people you _MAIMED AND KILLED. _'Doey eyes'? Who even says that? I'm pretty sure every time I looked at you for the first week, AT LEAST, was like I was looking at some weird mutated zoo animal who I kind of felt sorry for but was also pretty sure was maybe going to tear off my leg and start drinking my blood from my torn-off stump at any moment," Myra continued, ranting.

Bane's eyes focused on her passively as she expelled her rant. He could also detect one of Myra's infamous sass attacks a mile away, and he knew he was in the eye of the storm.

"You're more upset about how I framed the blossoming of our relationship than you are with the perceived slight of being kidnapped? Hmm. Interesting," Bane said with amusement and a subtle patronizing tone.

Bane's apparent humor in the situation fueled Myra's rant.

"_VERY PERSISTENT WITH MY AFFECTIONS"? _You are full of shit, sir. FULL. OF. IT. It is practically EXPLODING out of you. That's why you are SO BIG. FROM ALL THE SHIT YOU ARE FULL OF. The only thing I am persistent with is my gag reflex. _BLEH. _You have such an elevated ego, I'm surprised your head stays on your shoulders and your head doesn't just pop right off and fly upwards straight into space. THAT'S RIGHT. SPACE," Myra continued.

"Good thing you have so much muscle; otherwise that ego-laden head would just fly right off just "SLIGHTLY" flimsier shoulders. You _ACTED THE GENTLEMAN and established CLEAR BOUNDARIES? _OKAY buddy...right. I'm pretty sure you're the one that practically tore that towel off me and started groping me," Myra let out with an indignant huff.

Bane snapped his head towards her with his brows furrowed, angry and indignant at her perceived lack of chivalry he displayed towards her.

"I certainly did not 'tear the towel off'. Gravity played a hand. And I didn't start '_groping you'. _I was curious and explorative with my affections. If I had sensed _any bit _of hesitation or discomfort on your part, I would have made no moves towards you. Did you look _uncomfortable? _No….no. No you didn't. Quite the contrary, in fact," Bane finished, having felt the need to defend himself from her distorted recollection of events which framed him to be more than unchivalrous towards her.

"A towel doesn't just _FALL OFF. _'Curious and explorative with your affects' has another definition. _GROPING," _Myra said.

"Well, my 'groping' seemed to win you over quite easily. Maybe a little _too _easy," he teased, inserting humor back into his tone and appearing to enjoy the banter.

Myra gasped, the insinuation in his tone making her feel like some lusty harlot working the streets who solicits random gropings. Or that she had simply been on some precarious edge and needed only the smallest nudge to start seeking out his affections like some wanton woman with inexplicable desires. She ignored the fact that the latter option was a bit too close to reality for her liking, considering how pathetic the notion seemed in her head. She immediately transitioned into more sass.

"_TOO EASY? _WHAT? You invaded my privacy. You didn't even _KNOCK. _You just barged in like a dumb gorilla looking for a _BANANA,_" Myra fumed, taking a moment to inhale and continue her rant.

Oh, how Bane missed Myra's sass attacks. _Genuinely._ It was something he didn't realize he missed until it was suddenly revoked from his daily routine. His eyes roamed to her passively, completely unaffected by her words and insinuations. He even gave her several slow thoughtful blinks as she proceeded with her verbal assault against his character. He of course couldn't allow her to know how much he perhaps actually _enjoyed _her banter; it might elevate _her _ego and embolden her into excessiveness. Though, Bane thought, there was nothing that Myra could do at this moment in time that he would consider excessive; he loved all of it, especially when he very closely came to having none of it ever again.

Bane continued to watch her sassing at him, using her fingers animatedly to drive her points. To tease her, his eyes began to glaze over and he even made a playful show of nodding his head as if he were falling asleep. Myra picked up on this, and grabbed her catheter bag that had been resting on the kitchen counter and brandished it at him like a weapon, swinging it in front of his face under his nose. Bane's eyes widened as he leaned his head back, focusing on the urine bag being swung threateningly under his nose at him. After eyeing the urine bag for several seconds, he stood up from his chair.

"Turn around for me, please," Bane asked calmly over Myra's continued sass attack, moving around behind her with a sigh as he issued his request.

Myra did as he asked, continuing down the trajectory of simply complaining and sassing for sass's sake. Bane brought an arm around and across her chest suddenly to hold her still up against his body while his other hand reached around and fumbled under her pajama and underwear waistband. He began to grope around, stretching his hand down to settle between her legs, arching his body slightly forward as he did this.

This most definitely made Myra shut up, who stilled in confusion at the sudden forward nature of Bane and his hands which were now legitimately 'groping' her, which had been the basis of her sass attack up to that point. Her assumptions were wrong, however, at what his intentions may be as his fumbling fingers finally grabbed hold of the tubing connecting her to the catheter bag. He began tugging at it.

This was, of course, entirely shocking and uncomfortable for Myra. She felt like her lungs were frozen from the uncomfortable tingling friction that came with the unexpected clumsy jerking of the tubing in her urinary tract. In technical terms, it gave her the 'heebie jeebies'. It made her cringe, gasping, frozen in shock for a second before she started flailing and thrashing wildly around at Bane for his lack of tact. She tried squatting down on the ground to move her crotch out of reach of Bane's crass handywork. Bane responded by simply bending further forward and squeezing his arm across her chest tighter to hold her more securely. He then arched his body fully backwards to lift her up off her feet from the ground to prevent her from squatting down again.

"Harbinger...of..._sass," _Bane muttered into her ear as he continued to work his hands between her legs.

"_EHHHHHHHHH," _was the only sound Myra could make in reply.

Her flailing hands reached behind her and found the front of his mask as she began pushing and prodding his face away. Bane took the brunt of the abuse since his arms and hands were otherwise preoccupied, but he did make attempts at turning and ducking his head away from her jabbing fingers. He was mostly unsuccessful in that endeavor, closing one eye after she very clearly rammed her finger into his eye.

"Hold _still," _he demanded in annoyance, his attention focused downward over her shoulder as he continued fumbling for the tubing inserted into her crotch.

Bane's fingers finally grappled onto it firmly, giving one final swift tug and pulled the tubing out of her crotch. He yanked it out of her underwear and pajama pants like he had just unplugged a very dirty shower drain.

He let out a somewhat exhausted huff over her shoulder, holding the tubing outstretched away from him like a dead rat with Myra still held firmly against his chest with his other arm. He let it dangle right in front of her face for several seconds as if he were showing her a prized goose he just shot from the air. Myra grimaced, leaning back against him and glared at it dangling in front of her.

"Time to use the loo like a big girl, hmm?" Bane breathed into her ear in a teasing tone before releasing the hold he had on her with a slight push away from his body before he moved to deposit the catheter contents into a garbage.

"...you can go fuggin use the _'loo'_ like a big girl..." Myra muttered under her breath as she straightened and fidgeted the front of her pajama shirt down over her waistband, her reign of sass terror clearly not over.

Bane stopped to turn towards her with the catheter bag still in his hands.

"Pardon me? Do you need assistance with the loo?" he asked her pointedly.

Myra just stared, working her lips into a sassy tilt.

"Yes, that would be delightful," she said sassily, calling him out on his bluff knowing full well there was no way he was going to be able to show her how to use the loo 'like a big girl'.

Bane started walking towards her with very determined strides. Myra backed up, her eyes going wide as she outstretched her hands to block him.

"_NONONO. _I don't need assistance! Don't show me anything!" she quickly rushed out.

Bane stopped, giving her a warning glare, turning back around to go and deposit the catheter bag and tubing in the trash.

"...just….next time, a warning would have been nice," Myra simply muttered, bringing her hand to her crotch to rub the uncomfortable tingling sensation while staring daggers at him.

"There's no sport in that," Bane responded matter-of-factly.

Myra continued to glare.

"Oh okay. I'll make sure to grease myself up next time," Myra fumed.

"That sounds delightful. Please do," Bane said with seriousness and a hint of amused inflection in his voice.

After depositing the catheter bag in the garbage, he rounded on her again and stalked towards her with very determined strides. Myra was still shaken up from the sudden removal of a tube from her crotch. She was caught off guard by his sudden decision to advance on her again. She backed up when she saw the predatory gleam in his eye, however, seeing that he was still in a 'mood' for deviancy. Before she could react, he grabbed hold of her wrist and ripped the medical tape keeping the IV needle connector grounded on her wrist off like he was ripping off a bandaid, and then removed the connector with the needle. He turned her wrist over to inspect it before relinquishing it back over to her. He gathered up all of the tubing and needles in his arms and left Myra in stupefied shock with visible goosebumps sprouting up all over her skin from the ordeal. Myra just stared before letting out a huff, relaxing after getting a sense and feel of being considerably freer without being tethered to tubes and bags.

She continued rubbing the area between her crotch to alleviate the tingling sensation. She stood bow-legged as she did this, grimacing. Bane took notice, marching up behind her. He reached around her and with his own much larger hand, he assisted her. Myra initially started swatting his hand and body away with erratic flails at the intrusion, feeling he certainly 'helped' enough for today but she stopped; his much larger, much stronger, much firmer and more pleasant-feeling fingertips seemed to be doing a better job at grinding out the tingles. His hands did, however, remove one kind of tingling only to replace it with a very different sort.

She just stood, staring down between her legs, somewhat stupefied but not entirely uncomfortable.

After it was obvious Myra was fully pacified and relaxed, Bane removed his hand and stood up straight and went back to store the food leftovers into the kitchen, giving Myra a curious glance as he did so. She just stood there, shuffling on her feet, staring at him as if she had just gone through a wind tunnel based on the look of shock on her face and the windswept nature of her hair and demeanor.

Myra finally made a move to leave the kitchen, shuffling her feet along the floor as she did so. Bane caught up with her. He snatched a handful of fabric from the pajama shirt at her back, pulling it to stop her.

"Nuh uh uh. Time for a bath. You're starting to get a tad _ripe._ Considering your newfound habit to sleep on top of me, I insist on a bath,_" _Bane declared.

Myra just stopped in her tracks, looking over her shoulder at him. She furrowed her brows at his insult regarding her personal hygiene. While it was true she did feel considerably oily, greasy, and in a desperate need for a shower or bath, she also didn't like to be told what to do in such a derogatory manner. She ground her feet in.

Bane sensed her rising defiance, responding by simply reaching forward to pick her up bodily off the floor and marched her to the bathroom. Myra squirmed considerably, but by this point in their relationship, Bane was an expert squirm-handler. He shoved her into the bathroom, taking a step back to leave and closed the door behind him. He held the door shut so she wouldn't make attempts at leaving. He did hear feeble attempts at pounding on the door and the jiggling of the door handle to open it and non-committal cries for her to be let out, but after several minutes he finally heard the sound of the bathtub water running and Myra humming idly. He propped a large piece of furniture in front of the door to keep her from leaving prematurely and turned to leave to deal with logistic-matters that required much-needed attention from his men.

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 13 Days

The next morning was similar to the previous morning, with Myra sitting at the kitchen dining table while Bane served up breakfast. There were a few differences, however. For one, her injuries were at the point where they were just faint green blotches that peppered her skin. It was also the last day for her to take a dosage of medication from Dr. Crane. Additionally, her recollection and memory were also overtaking her confusion; before, she was confused about everything and just went along with the routine that Bane had provided for her. Now, she was simply confused at certain aspects of things that had transpired during the gaping black hole in her memory that sat like a sagging sack in her mind.

She began questioning some of the daily rituals in her life that appeared to be the 'norm', despite the fact that they didn't feel like her _usual _'norm' based on her recollection of events prior to 'the black hole'. It was an odd sensation, like having two very distinct chemicals suddenly coming together to mix and create a new substance. 'She' was the new substance; the combination of what transpired 'before' and 'after'.

She gripped at the napkin in front of her on the kitchen table, her brows knitted together in concern, watching Bane at the stove as he prepared breakfast. Her lips worked together; it was obvious she was working out the courage to say something very uncomfortable regarding the 'black hole' incident.

"Did I...hit my head? Black out?" Myra eased out cautiously; she wanted to know what happened. While she knew she had been unconscious, she couldn't remember _why. Did you knock me out?_ _Did you hit me? Choke me? Smother me? _

Bane turned towards her with a spatula in his hand, giving her a look over before he turned his attention back to the grill.

"Your head was not injured. You went into some type of shock," Bane said in a casual manner, trying to prematurely de-escalate the situation, sensing the discomfort and questioning in Myra's eyes. He knew what she was thinking.

Myra furrowed her brows, staring down at the table. _Shock? Shock can cause me to black out for days? _

Been let her stew in her thoughts as he continued preparing breakfast. He prepared her food first, taking it and moving to her to place it in front of her. He gave her slightly hunched back a gentle rub to coax her out of her reverie before he moved back to the grill to finish preparing his own breakfast.

Myra simply stared down at the food. _Why is he being so nice? Like nothing happened? Didn't he...didn't he just try to kill me not too long ago? _His niceness suddenly made her uncomfortable.

"I...uh….I…." Myra was fumbling verbally. She didn't know what to say. She screwed her eyes to focus and stare at an imperfection in the table.

Bane looked over his shoulder at her, giving her a casual stare as she started struggling with her words.

"I'm….I'm sorry…." she eased out, feeling like she needed to apologize for something. For going behind his back. For disappointing him. For abusing his trust. For causing him visible anger. For inconveniencing him.

Her head snapped up when she heard Bane throw the spatula down on the table with a loud 'CLANK'. He turned from the grill and stormed towards her with several long strides her. She leaned away from him when he stopped directly in front of her, unsure if he meant to push her out of her chair or plow her down. Instead, he knelt down in front of her and grabbed her by the hand and gave it a soft squeeze.

Bane looked at her; he looked at her hard. He had no illusions about what she was apologizing for. While she may have been making an attempt at appearing to apologize for her slight against him by going behind his back to thwart his plans, he knew better. If anything, she was apologizing for being found out and causing him perceived anger. He guided her head to look at him.

"I have no illusions about who you are and what you believe, so don't try and be coy with me. I refuse to accept an apology from you, because it was my own failings that allowed the events to play out as they did and escalate.I should have been keeping a better eye on you. I do expect, however, the same courtesy from you in regards to my _own _actions and beliefs. Understood?" Bane said.

Myra had lifted her chin up to stare at him as he delivered her this message. She felt very much like she was water, and Bane was oil; two liquids that had a hard time meshing together because they had a very different consistency. Yet, sometimes, on rare occasions, they certainly could be combined to make delicious recipes. She nodded to him that she understood.

Bane mirrored her nod, giving her hands one last gentle stroke before his eyes got diverted to the kitchen table that had an array of medicine jars and containers. He stood up and grabbed several of them, opened them up, took a tablet from each, and then handed them to her without explanation. She took them from his hand, playing with them between her fingers before popping them in her mouth and taking a sip of water. Bane went back to the grill to finish preparing his food after observing her take the medicine.

"Think of us engaging in opposite political views; let us pretend that one of us is a member of an opposing political party of the other. Plenty of relationships thrive with that duality," Bane offered as he flipped food on the grill, sounding lighthearted.

Myra knit her brows together at his over-simplified appraisal of the situation. That certainly was _not _what it felt like. She was, however, exhausted from thinking about it and simply wanted to move on.

She then eventually let her eyes wander to the bottle of pills that Bane had taken tablets from. She started wondering what the pills were, and focused on the container that Bane took them from. She squinted her eyes to read the labels.

"Pre…natal vitamins? What...aren't those for pregnant women?" Myra scoffed, almost restraining laughter at the prospect of getting her vitamin supplements from such a source.

"Astute observation," Bane said simply, busy with the task in the kitchen.

Myra's eyes began to wander, easing back in her chair. She then began squinting her eyes.

"Why am I taking them then?" she asked skeptically, suddenly feeling very disoriented.

Bane didn't respond, but let his silence fill the void of unanswered questions as he continued focusing on his task at the grill. He made the assumption that she would come to the realization that she was pregnant on her own without needing to be provided with a clear verbal response.

Myra furrowed her brows, her eyes wandering around, feeling incredibly awkward. She brought a hand up to her stomach and began rubbing it.

"When?" she asked, incredulous, feeling like Bane may be teasing her and still unsure if he was being serious.

"Well, I certainly can't pinpoint the exact date of conception…," Bane began to say in a somewhat patronizing tone before Myra cut him off.

"NO. How do _you _know and I don't? What? _WHAT_? WHAT. What," Myra began saying, feeling more and more lost and uncomfortable.

"I had a doctor brought up here to check you out while you were unconscious. He's the one that made the discovery and he informed me. Eat your food," Bane turned towards her, pointing the spatula at her plate.

Myra looked down at her food reflexively after being given an abrupt order to eat despite her mind clearly focused on other matters. She worked her mouth in a fine line. This wasn't exactly how she'd imagine it would be when and if she ever discovered she was pregnant. She figured there would be more hugging, more crying, more laughing, more happiness and general fanfare. She also hadn't been sure she _wanted _to be pregnant, considering her preconceived notions surrounding the challenges of bearing a child from and for a 'warlord'; a mercenary; a _terrorist_.

She just straight-up felt awkward and misplaced. She certainly wasn't unhappy; she just simply wasn't sure how she should feel. She then realized her undecided, awkward-feeling mindset had more to do with wanting to follow Bane's lead in the matter concerning whether she should be happy or simply indifferent. She looked back up to Bane; or rather, Bane's back as he continued with the chore of preparing food on the grill as if in an almost seeming disinterest to the news. _Does…he….even want one? It doesn't seem like it... Although, why would he have gone through the trouble of getting me prenatal vitamins if he didn't want me to keep it? _

Myra and Bane had never discussed 'pregnancy'. They didn't even actively discuss contraception, despite the frequency of their 'adult activities'. Myra didn't take 'the pill'; it had a history of causing her depression. Considering her _current _mental history, that most certainly wrote that method of contraception off the table. Then there was one bout in which Myra encouraged Bane to simply wear a condom. He did obligingly at first, but in one of the very rare times Myra ever heard the man 'whine', he complained of the sensation of being 'strangled' and was very clearly uncomfortable. He dismissed the notion of using a condom after that one experience, giving off the impression that it was wholly unnecessary. Myra, from what she could recollect, just shrugged her shoulders at his decision; if he wanted to deal with the fallout of any unplanned pregnancy, then he could be her guest. He didn't appear to be bothered by the notion, despite the frequency in which they engaged in intercourse.

After months of this routine, they never got pregnant, so Myra just assumed there may be some other underlying reason that was preventing her from getting pregnant. And to be honest, she wasn't that interested in knowing about any possible underlying reasons why because she felt if Bane wanted her know, he would have told her. And for all she knew it could have been _her _that was the reason for a lack of pregnancy. She had no desire to go get herself checked out simply for a doctor to tell her she couldn't have children. She simply ran with it without question, not wanting to pry and perhaps imply that Bane may be 'sterile' from some injury or the medication he used. Considering his line of work, it didn't seem totally impossible for him to have sustained an injury that affected his reproductive capabilities. She never got the notion he was lacking or faltering in the act itself, however; in fact, he basically performed like a stallion. This led her to just push back any possible questions to the back of her mind, somewhat indifferent about the whole thing.

"What's your view on babies?" Myra finally asked him skeptically.

Bane turned towards her at her question, the elevated nature of his eyebrows indicating he wasn't expecting the question. He turned back to focus on the grill before giving her an answer.

"I have no opinion on babies," he stated, seemingly disinterested.

Myra chewed her lip slowly, thinking about his answer.

"That's not helpful. I want to know what your opinion is…," Myra eased out, slightly embarrassed at the topic, fishing for how she should proceed with the news she just swallowed. She most certainly wasn't going to start jumping around elated if she found out Bane would prefer she go to an abortion clinic and 'take care of it'.

Bane simply shrugged, staring down into the sink.

"It's your body. If you want to birth a child, I wouldn't object. If you wanted to terminate the pregnancy, again; that's your prerogative. I'm just the fumbling gardener who planted the seed," Bane said with slight amusement in his tone, speaking as if downplaying his role, importance, and involvement with the ordeal.

Myra's eyebrows climbed up her forehead. She would hardly consider the word 'fumbling' to describe Bane's actions; in fact, he was always very precise and skilled with just about everything he did, even _'planting seeds'. _She also wasn't expecting Bane to have such progressive views on pregnancy. If anything, she considered him to be slightly old-fashioned. She almost got the sense that he was indifferent about the whole ordeal, almost deflecting any and all responsibility off his shoulders in the matter. She was speechless.

In reality, Bane knew full well he wasn't going to be around after the bomb went off. He didn't want her to have a child with the expectation that he would be around to help raise it. He wanted her to have the child because _she _wanted it; not because he did. He had to actively hold back his feelings on the topic, not wanting to motivate her into keeping it simply because he made any insinuation or slight indicator that he wanted a child. Why would it matter if he wanted one? He wasn't even going to be there when she delivered it. Thinking about all of this also gave him inexplicable aches in his chest, and he preferred just deflecting the decision onto her shoulders instead. He detected the stilling of her body, perhaps detecting his response and reaction as seeming indifference leaning more towards the negative variety. He, of course, was anything _but _indifferent. He was basically a pressurized vessel on the verge of exploding from the feelings and emotions he was experiencing regarding the matter, but he knew he also had to actively keep it controlled, hidden, and contained.

"Do you...have children?" Myra asked. She suddenly felt very awkward asking the question, but didn't regret asking it. For all she knew, he roamed from city to city, planting his 'seed' before moving on to the next town like Genghis Khan, leaving a trail of babies in his path.

He turned towards her, amusement thick in his facial features based on the creases at the corner of his eyes.

"No," he said simply before turning back to his task.

Myra simply stared, unsure of what to say and still unsure of how she should feel. Bane picked up on her unease.

"Granted, in the event you do desire to keep the child, know that you and the child would be taken care of and provided for, if that's your worry. You would want for nothing," he eased out almost reluctantly, turning to look at her to indicate his sincerity, putting the spatula down on the table.

Myra fidgeted with her hands and her shoulders visibly relaxed.

"You mean I can have one of those fancy strollers? The really _really _expensive kind?" Myra asked, trying to sound teasing and jovial, but still sounded somewhat sad as if recovering from the perceived slight of his indifference. She did visibly start to warm up to the notion of being pregnant based on his sudden declaration, however.

Bane simply nodded, amused at such a superficial request appeasing her so easily.

"Can I send them to whatever school I want? _A really nice, expensive prestigious_ school?" Myra asked, her voice rising.

Bane continued to simply nod; he saw no reason to deny any of her requests, which all seemed logical to him regardless of any perceived extravagance. Myra spat out several more requests which Bane made no hesitation to agree to, before she transitioned to a different concern.

"Well, I'm glad we have that established...but, to be honest, I'm a bit more concerned about something else," Myra eased out almost reluctantly.

"What's that?" Bane inquired.

"I'm concerned about whether the kid will eventually grow up to be a mercenary too...know what kind of crimes you've committed..._will _commit…," she confessed somewhat bashfully.

It was obvious she had massive disdain for his profession and plans regarding Gotham; she had even been willing to sacrifice their relationship based on some semblance of hope that would have prevented him from carrying out his plan. She now knew any efforts by her regarding the matter were futile, and if she wanted to be with him, then she had to accept there were certain aspects about him that were out of her control and that she may not like. That still didn't mean she couldn't use words like 'hate' and 'disgust' to describe how she felt about some of the things he did. She also knew she had no control over her feelings for him. It wasn't the most comfortable experience to be in love with someone who you knew did terrible things.

Myra loved Bane; she knew that. She also knew the futility of ever wanting to change aspects of a partner when in a romantic relationship. _HOWEVER_, if there was just _one _thing – just one 'itsy bitsy' thing that Myra could change about Bane, it would most definitely be his chosen profession. She knew she was never going to be able to change that aspect about him, so she decided henceforth to be willfully ignorant as it pertained to certain aspects of it if she was ever going to be able to be comfortable being with him.

However, if she were to have a child, there was no way in hell she'd want it to grow up hurting, choking, and killing people; like their father. It would be slightly harder to ignore your own child's involvement in those things because then _you _became responsible. Questions like, "Why didn't you raise them better? Why didn't you show them there were other paths to follow? Nurture them? Love them? Care for them?" would become painfully frequent.

Bane found her concern incredibly endearing, so he smiled. Bane turned his body around to face her, resting his hips against the kitchen counter casually and crossing his arms over his chest.

"When our child comes along, they are free to follow their mother's ideals without my interferance. They are also free to pursue whatever profession you wish for them. Does that satisfy you?" he said simply.

Myra looked up, startled at the ease in which he agreed to her request. She stared, caught off guard.

"That sounds agreeable," she finally said as if they were drawing up legal paperwork, laying out contingencies and conditions for the birth of their child.

"Did you follow your father's footsteps? Was he a mercenary too?" she asked curiously, deciding she wanted to know a bit more about Bane's family history since it would become her child's family history now, too.

"My mother didn't know who my father was; he was one of the other prisoners. She was raped almost immediately when she was exiled to live in the prison. All I know about him is that he was a rapist, which, advocating for myself, I am not. So no, I didn't follow in his footsteps," Bane said, using the same detached voice he had used prior when talking about his mother.

Myra found this information scandalous. She decided to move on with the conversation.

"What was she like? Your mother," Myra asked gently.

Bane let his eyes drop to the floor as if he were digging into the recesses of his brain to capture the fleeting images he had of his mother. He stared for several moments before answering.

"Soft. Warm. She had a marvelous sense of humor, despite her horrid situation," Bane's eyes drifted back up to Myra's suggestively.

Myra returned his gaze steadily, which looked far-off and contemplative. She gave him a moment to continue to reflect on his mother before she decided to speak again. She decided to tease him when she saw him refocus on her.

"Well, it's a tragedy that none of her humor managed to get passed on to you. You would be more tolerable to be around, I suppose. I would have liked to know what her humor was like," Myra confessed.

Bane smiled at her tease, giving her a meaningful look.

"You already seem to be a master of her style of humor. The similarities between the manner in which you tease me is uncanny. She loved to tease me mercilessly for being too serious for a child," he said affectionately, evocatively.

Myra paused briefly, interpreting what he said for several moments. She even clearly missed the food going into her mouth as she maintained her focus on Bane, the fork scraping against her cheek and leaving a messy food streak. She quickly wiped the food off her face awkwardly. Her face went beat red for a multitude of reasons. _Oh great. I remind him of his mother. THAT explains a lot…._

Redness overtook Myra's features, all the way to the tips of her ears, as she continued to think about the implications of what Bane said. _I mean….normally I'd be a little weirded out if I found out one of the reasons a guy really likes me is because I remind him of his mom…but…...I suppose I'll give him a pass this time though, since he clearly missed some established social norms ….I suppose if one of the reasons why he likes me is because I bring him some type of nostalgia concerning the comfort, humor, and warmth his mom gave him, I suppose there are worse things in the world to be associated with. I don't blame him for wanting to seek out someone that makes him feel those things, even if he did so without truly realizing what it was he was doing. I guess that's...cute..._

It was obvious Bane had a constant emotional connection to his mother, despite talking about her rarely. She was probably one of the very real, very genuine emotional connections he had with another individual. She was probably the one responsible for teaching and showing him how to be warm and nurturing. Those attributes don't just 'happen', especially if he grew up in a prison. That was probably what led to the very obvious duality of his nature; the deeply emotional, deeply caring side of him that was nurtured and influenced by his mother paired with the fact that he was molded and shaped by the harsh realities of living and surviving in a prison after his mother died.

The fact that she died when he was still very young must have been extremely polarizing due to the sudden removal of that warmth and comfort stripped from his life. She also immediately snapped back on one of their initial conversations regarding his mother, and how she named him "Bane". At the time, she assumed she was a terrible vindictive mother who hated her situation and named him "Bane" because he brought her pain and misery, and as he stated, 'The bane of her existence'.

Myra realized now, that if _she _were to name someone "Bane", particularly her own child, mixed with the fact that she did carry a level of humor and sarcasm wherever she went regardless of the situation as evident by her own short time as a hostage, it would have been done so as a term of endearment and love, almost as if to mock the fact that he was anything but the bane of her existence. His mother must have loved him very much, regardless of how he came into the world as well as her being condemned to live in the prison.

"How old were you when she died?" Myra asked softly, redness continuing to deepen into her cheeks at the emotional impact and implications of his previous comment.

"Just a youngster, probably 4 or 5," he mused. "I was forced to grow-up in hell at an early age; no one was there to protect or comfort me," he continued.

Creases formed at the corner of his eyes indicating he was smiling, though Myra knew it was half-hearted and insincere, as if he were pitying himself.

Something dawned on Myra as he shared this information with her. She knew that Talia had lost her own mother at a very early age, probably the same age Bane had lost his, for almost identical reasons. However, Bane had saved and protected Talia. He did this, Myra realized, probably because he knew intimately what it was like to have no one to help fend off and be protected from hell. To have someone to comfort them, to know what it was like to lose a mother to hell and be subject to the brutalities of prison so young. He couldn't tolerate that happening to someone else. He even sacrificed himself for her to escape, injuries to his body and face as well as the mask that he wore permanent reminders of that sacrifice. He did these things selflessly, Myra realized, because he had probably wished more than anything that someone would have done the same for him.

Myra felt like she now had a deeper understanding for why he may have followed Talia so ardently. She was _him. _She was a reflection of _him. _He probably developed a guardian-type relationship with her, protecting her.

In reality, unbeknown to Myra and even Bane to some extent, Bane was simply blinded by the innocence he had saved at an early age and unable to see Talia as she was now after slowly being twisted and distorted by an external force - _her father. _Once Talia left the influence of Bane and the prison, Bane had no control over the effect Talia's father would have on her and how it would shape her as a person. She grew up being guided and manipulated by a father whose only goal in life was to cause rebirth and destruction on a large scale under the umbrella of an ancient organization. She eventually grew to the point where her own selfish endeavors under the guise of revenge required those closest to her to sacrifice themselves, which Bane had agreed to and would do so willingly and without question because he had already done so once before. It was effortless for him at the time when he agreed to sacrifice his life for Talia and her cause.

Myra slowly rose from her chair, abandoning her meal as she approached Bane. She inexplicably had tears forming in her eyes at her realization about Bane's inner workings and past history. She moved to ensnare him with a warm hug, smothering her face into his chest.

Bane had the look of confusion over her reaction to his words, not considering the news he shared with her to be particularly jarring or sentimental. He reciprocated her warm gesture, however, by wrapping an arm around her shoulder while his other hand came up to softly comb his fingers through her hair. He was still slightly confused over her seemingly emotional over-reaction, blaming it perhaps on the hormones of being pregnant, but enjoyed her affections, nonetheless.

As Myra settled into his arms, Bane stared down at the top of her head.

"Tell me about your mother and father," Bane suggested gently.

Myra wrapped her arms around his middle tighter, turning her head to the side so she could speak clearly.

"My mom was super talkative. I don't remember much about her except her talking all of the time. My dad….just….let my mom do all of the talking. He seemed like he was just a passenger along for the ride whenever he was with her," she mused.

Myra paused for several moments as she gathered up more memories before speaking again.

"My dad called me 'RaRa Bean' when I was really upset or out of control, which- _I know this may come to you as a shock-_ happened somewhat frequently as a child. He used to wrap me up in a strong hug and whisper it to me when I was having a fit. It always seemed to work; he didn't usually have endearments for me, so to hear him say "RaRa Bean" made me want to sometimes purposefully get _into _a fit just to hear him say it." Myra grinned devilishly before continuing.

"He loved to take his finger and his thumb and pretend to steal my nose. He thought he was so clever doing that. _I _thought he was so clever doing that...stealing my stupid nose," Myra sighed out, leaning back to visually illustrate to Bane with her own thumb and forefinger the process of 'stealing her nose'.

She looked up at Bane's mask, bringing her hands to cup around his mask and starting making imaginary 'fluffing' gestures as if she were pulling on a beard.

"He had this huge big burly beard that covered his face. He also let me stay up with him in his lap and watch late night news with him. My mom hated that. She thought the news was too scary for me to watch," Myra grinned.

"I was so young when they died...I remember it hurting so much to think about them, but now it….it's just a memory. My grandma took care of me longer than they did. Her death wasn't as unexpected; she had cancer. She always joked that my sass was what gave her cancer." Myra grinned wickedly, though Bane could detect an underlying note of sadness as if her grin was an attempt to mask that sadness.

Bane stroked several strands of hair off of her brow.

"_That, _I can believe. Your sass is toxic," Bane hummed in a gentle tease, stroking her hair before cupping a hand at the back of her neck.

After several moments of both Bane and Myra enjoying the comfort of each other's arms, they eventually made it back to the table to finish their now-cold Breakfast.

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 12 Days

The next morning, Myra found herself kneeling in front of and hunched over the toilet. She vomited into the toilet with unexpected force, her legs sprawled out on either side of the toilet as she performed this task. She held onto the seat with both hands to steady herself from the force of her projectiling. Bane was standing behind her, crouched down and leaning forward to hold her hair out of the way of her vomit loosely in one hand.

Myra groaned, which was amplified from the sound of a stuffy nose, feeling liquids oozing out of her eyes, nose, and mouth. She tried inhaling in a quick sniffle to clear the snotty liquid that was running down the front of her lip. Bane moved her hair into one of his hands, leaned towards the toilet paper dispenser to tear off several sheets. He then leaned forward and reached around to start wiping her face with a bit more force than was necessary, causing Myra to squirm and try to deflect his helping hand. He ignored her attempts as Myra felt her nose being pinched with the toilet paper and thoroughly being squeezed of the liquid that was settled and running down from inside of it. She recoiled again slightly at the awkwardness of someone else cleaning her snot and facial fluids, but thankful he was doing it since her hands were settled on the lid of the toilet.

"This is your fault," Myra finally groaned after feeling her stomach fully emptied.

"My fault?" Bane questioned with concern and indignation.

"YES, _your fault_. If you hadn't taken me hostage from the Gotham Stock exchange, I wouldn't be here, _RIGHT NOW_, puking my brains out," Myra groaned with all seriousness, leaning forward from exhaustion.

Lines blossomed around the outer corners of Bane's eyes.

"Oh, I sincerely apologize. I'll try to be more considerate and thoughtful with my future hostage pursuits. Perhaps a brunette next time…?" Bane teased.

Myra turned her head away from the toilet to glare at him suddenly, giving him the biggest stink eye of the universe. As she did this, a dribble of vomit ran down her lip, her eyes moistened and puffy with her nose red from congestion, hair plastered to her sweaty forehead. Bane couldn't recall the last time he saw anyone so beautiful and radiant in his life.

* * *

_**Author: Don't forget to review! You guys have been lovely and amazing; it makes my day when I receive a review! I love hearing what you thought about the chapter, so please do so if you haven't done so already! **_


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 14**_

_**Author: Huge HUGE thanks to MaggYme, Kai, WickedlyMinx, Siennax3, sunny day, mynameistolong, sunflower2527, and BMO for your reviews :0 Your reviews are the things I stuff into the good ol' energy converter to help encourage me to continue writing this story! I ~LOOOOOVEEEE~ reading them! Seriously you guys. I really can't emphasize enough how much it means to me to read each and every review. Without them, I'd be like...a sad dead fish flailing around or something (I don't know why I came up with that analogy, BUT IT'S THERE. I SAID IT. NO TAKSIE-BACKSIES.) **_

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 11 Days

Myra had taken up handicrafts and knitting small items that were undoubtedly items meant to be worn and used by a baby. Bane interpreted it as Myra's own way of 'nesting', considering her limited influence on her environment as well as her inability to actually go out and explore shops to gather up supplies she felt she needed. She even shockingly found a baby magazine amongst John Daggett's things that she had started spending a significant amount of time idly paging through and circling things she wanted. Bane made his own form of preparation, though Myra would never know about it. It was also a type of preparation he knew he had been internally preparing for prior to the knowledge of Myra being pregnant, but that added bit of information certainly expedited his actions.

It was in the form of a call he made.

The call was to Talia.

"I'd like to discuss our plan further," Bane said in a casual tone.

"Continue," Talia said in response.

Bane paced back and forth several moments before he continued.

"I have outlined a method that would allow us to detonate the bomb from outside the perimeter of the city…..," Bane started to say before he was cut off.

"_Bane_. We can't make any changes this close to the detonation. _You know that._ There's too much at risk; too many unaccounted variables,_" _Talia said on the other end of the line. It was obvious her patience and irritation were running thin.

Bane stopped his pacing, closing his eyes to bring his fingers up to rub them gently with his fingertips.

"Why don't we just remove my men from the city _now_, and then simply detonate the bomb? This would help ensure the continuation of the League of Shadows and your father's legacy, as well as future endeavors on our part. Are a few more days absolutely crucial to this plan? I know you wish for Wayne to _suffer_ as much as possible before the detonation, but...he is a broken man. He is finished. I've seen it with my own eyes," Bane said.

Bane could practically feel Talia's irritation through the phone.

"_Yes. He needs to suffer_. The whole point of waiting this long for detonation was to cause him absolute pain and suffering for his betrayal," Talia said as if lecturing a child.

"Yes…but... who's going to be around to continue your legacy? The League of Shadows? If we are all blown to pieces, will his legacy matter? Will _revenge _for your father's death matter?" Bane responded ardently.

Talia wasn't having it. She could also clearly detect an ulterior motive behind Bane's request. She knew Bane wasn't squeamish, hesitant, or getting 'cold feet' about the prospect of his own death, and that he also most certainly could have cared less whether the League of Shadows continued on as an organization; the whole reason he persisted with his involvement in it was for Talia.

"Bane. We aren't altering our plans," Talia said, pausing several seconds before continuing on with her thought. "You wouldn't want...someone you care for deeply to get hurt because you weren't there, would you?" Talia said innocently.

Bane knew a threat when he heard one; while her words may have implied she was speaking about herself as the person he cared for and would be remiss if he weren't around to ensure her safety during the ordeal, he knew Talia was referring to someone else.

She was making a threat against Myra's life.

Bane was silent.

"It would also be a shame…I heard a stork flying by overhead not too long ago. They make such a unique and distinct sound when they flap their wings...it's hard to mistake them," Talia said with deep innuendo.

Bane was not amused.

"What did you say?" he said urgently, seething as he tightened his grip on the phone.

"We aren't altering our plans, Bane. It's too late. Stick with the plan, or I'll be forced to take matters into my own hands," Talia said, before hanging up abruptly.

Bane's hand continued to tighten before an audible 'crunch' was heard as the phone got compressed by an angry shaking hand.

* * *

That evening, Myra stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She held the hem of her shirt up to expose her stomach, making attempts at determining if there were any physical indicators of her pregnant condition. She tried different poses like lunging dramatically forward, forcing her belly out as if she were bloated, or simply lifting her arms up. She didn't see any strong indicators; her stomach was still relatively flat, though she did feel like a slight flabby pouch was starting to form from all of the food Bane was cramming down her throat. Nothing prominent, though.

After her inspection and settling the hem of her shirt down, her eyes roamed to her face. She leaned forward towards the mirror, letting her fingertips trail along the green bruised splotches along her jaw that were now barely visible. Her eye had mostly healed with little to no evidence of there ever being an injury.

She had a hard time recollecting what happened entirely. One thing she did know, however, was that the bruises on her face were a result of Bane's handling of her. Her fingers continued to poke and prod her skin as she tried extracting the details of the event from the closed-off part of her mind that seemed to be begging her not to think about it. It was hard not to, however; the event of being physically and mentally abused to a degree which led to enough trauma to where she simply couldn't remember roughly a week of her life was alarming and concerning. She couldn't let it happen again.

She suddenly became very contemplative regarding her injuries and her perceived inability to protect herself and prevent them from even happening. She wasn't just protecting herself anymore; there was someone else that was going to be relying on her, too. She felt a newfound level of aggression and protectiveness over her own body. It started rousing a new level of indignation, frustration, and anger over the situation of Bane handling her in a way that caused her physical harm.

Bane walked into the bathroom as she was examining her face. Her facial expression must have strongly communicated her incensed and heated mood for he stopped suddenly to stare at her. Myra's eyes darted from the mirror to him when she sensed his presence. Bane almost regretted even deciding to enter the bathroom at that particular moment. Bane physically leaned back quickly as she swung around and pointed a finger directly into his face, shaking it at him before she firmly grabbed hold of his mask as if she were on the verge of wrestling a wild boar by the tusks.

Bane startled at the unexpected, uncharacteristically aggressive manhandling prescribed in Myra's actions. He simply stared, his eyes analyzing her for several moments as he waited for her to voice whatever it was she had on her mind that was causing her such animosity towards him.

"If you _ever _bruise me again...I'm...I'm _leaving_ your ass," Myra muttered.

She could not have sounded more sincere. Bane could detect the seriousness she prescribed in her tone, which set a strong foundation for her claim. She continued to stare daggers at him with eyes covered with deeply furrowed brows. Bane returned her stare, though his was considerably more passive and compliant than hers.

"Agreed. We will leave my ass behind," Bane said in agreement, staring down at her.

It took all of his willpower to reign in his pride, to surrender and submit to the much scrawnier female in front of him manhandling him by his mask like she had her hands gripping his sizable nut sack. He also had to actively mind his reflexes; he had a tendency to snatch out and simply crunch anything - _or anyone - _that was making such obvious sincere threats at him, particularly if they took the extra initiative of manhandling him in a physical sense, _especially_ if that manhandling involved touching his mask. _No _one manhandled Bane. _No_ one touched his mask. That wasn't an available option unless you wanted to die.

He didn't react aggressively towards her, of course, but instead simply let her vent her displeasure at him, standing erect with his attention focused down on her like a man who knew he had 'done wrong'. He positioned his hands behind his back, feeling them shake from the mental exertion of overriding his natural tendencies to simply reflexively respond with violence when in any sort of physical confrontation such as this.

"While I know...I _know _I betrayed your trust...you..." Myra continued to stare, her eyes searching his as if she were going to find the words in the unwavering irises staring back at her.

"...you promised no one..._NO ONE..._would hurt me if I came back...'I won't allow it', is what I remember you saying...," Myra continued, her eyes darting across his face to fixate on his eyes.

Myra paused briefly, working her lips as she extrapolated the rest of her stream of thought.

"...I thought you meant it. Yet...there's a _big black hole _in my mind from...something _happening _to me...something _painful _that I can feel my insides telling me to ignore, because I won't like what I find. The one truth I do know is that it happened because you _abandoned _me, and fed me to a _monster._ Did your promise come with conditions? Or did you simply mean to exclude yourself from your own declaration? Do you plan on _abandoning _me again?" Myra managed to mumble out, as if she were confronting someone for swindling her into a bait-and-switch scenario; promising and selling her one thing, but clearly providing her something else.

Bane simply stared at her, remaining silent so as not to interrupt her. He waited several long pauses before he spoke, ensuring that she was absolutely done with her train of thought.

"Of course not," he responded, though his voice did hitch somewhat and he sounded far from genuine. He felt a pitiful grind in his heart as if he were directly misleading her, knowing she would undoubtedly feel a monumental sense of physical and emotional abandonment when she discovered his intentions to stay within Gotham when the bomb detonated.

Myra's brows pushed together in confusion at his statement. Why did he just sound so pitifully disingenuous? If he didn't exclude himself from his own vow and there were no conditions to his promise, then why did he let it happen? Were all of the promises he made to her rubbish? Meaningless? Was she not worth the promises he made to her? Did they mean something when he originally made them, but did she become less important to him as time went on to a point where promises made to her didn't matter anymore because _she _didn't matter anymore? Did she simply deserve the punishment he dealt her, therefore he felt he was justified in overriding his own promise to her due to that justification?

Bane sensed her confusion and sadness that started to creep into her face as her eyes slowly drifted downward off of his, detecting the very clear look of self-doubt and evaluation of self-worth that seemed to be a common theme from Myra due to her fluctuating self-esteem. Her mind tended to spiral and fixate on the negative when she felt wronged. Bane quickly spoke up to prevent her from asserting blame based on her own self-worth.

"I made a grave error when I hurt you, Myra. Truly...I won't admit that I have complete control over my actions in every situation, and for that I sincerely apologize. Certain emotions can propel me into reckless abandon, particularly if influenced by those I love. I made an unforgivable mistake in overlooking the fact that I was the very thing that I should have protected you from. I often forget sometimes how truly sheltered and isolated I keep you here, away from my work...you don't have regular opportunities to _see_ me as I am, Myra, when I'm outside of the walls of this penthouse. It's because I don't _want _you to see what I am. Frankly put, I am a monster. I am _evil. _I am a monster in human flesh. Only a monster could have treated you the way I did. I know I have deceived you perhaps by pretending to be otherwise, with us living here..playing at 'house'. However, I am that monster that keeps you up at night...that drives your _nightmares_. That now seems to cause you to tussle and _scream _in your sleep. That created that big black hole in your mind. You must have seen something so horrifying and dreadful that day, _in me_, that your brain simply shut down to save yourself and retreat to a place that even I, _a monster_, couldn't reach you. _That was me. I am responsible for it. I am that evil wretched thing," _Bane said, his eyes becoming hard and steely and driven by feeling and purpose.

Myra's eyes lifted fleetingly up to meet his before darting down to look at the floor. She couldn't remember the instantaneous moment in which she blacked out; all she could remember was being scared. Scared, helpless, and afraid. Afraid she was going to die. Then the feeling of an astounding, overwhelming sense of betrayal and abandonment that the individual she loved and cared for _so much,_ who had vowed to protect her against harm, wasn't there to save or protect her against..._that monster. _Then afraid of the _manner _she was going to die, knowing she was utterly alone and helpless, no longer concerned with the notion of death but actually longing for it, even attempting to take her own life to eliminate the terrible 'unknown' of what other unfathomable types of pain and torture the _monster_ had in store for her. And then suddenly not caring about anything. And then...nothing. Darkness. It was also true, regarding her nightmares; her dreams had been riddled with them which had been keeping her up at night, giving her restless sleep, and making her feel drained. That was, until she made a habit of sleeping on Bane while she slept. His touch, comfort, and heat that radiated off of him seemed to keep those nightmares at bay. It was a conundrum - _a paradox - _knowing that the one thing that was able to prevent her from having nightmares while she slept had also been the _cause _of her nightmares.

How could he claim to be one thing, yet provide her with feelings of warmth and love that very clearly indicated something else entirely? Being with him and being nurtured and cared for by him had ignited a need inside of her. It made her emotionally dependent on him, because she knew deep down, truly, that no one on the planet would have provided that same level of comfort and care that he provided her that seemed so genuinely custom tailored to _her_. It made her feel _good. Wanted. Loved._ 'At _home'. _It felt _good _to be loved, especially to the degree he rose to and seemed to achieve effortlessly as if he were born to take care of her and seemed to know exactly the way she preferred things as if reading her mind. His ability to stop and listen to her requests as if her opinions mattered the most in the world, regardless of how ridiculous they were, made her feel special and shamelessly spoiled. As if _she _mattered most in the world. It made her hate him sometimes at how good he was at making her feel those lovely and sincere things. Yet now...he was able to achieve quite the opposite, by making her feel _small. Hated. Undesirable. _Briefly removing that feeling that she was ever 'special', for if she was _truly _special to him, then he wouldn't have hurt her the way he did. It all seemed like a huge farce. Was he right in that he simply was a monster playing at being a human, unable to _actually _feel things? Was he only pretending at having emotions and loving her because it fit his narrative of playing at human until he needed to unleash the monster? Or did he have it all wrong and was he simply a human playing at being a monster? He _did _seem genuinely remorseful and _pained _at the distress and hurt he inflicted upon her, but was that just an act too? It certainly didn't feel like an act. It felt real, delicate, and sincere. She had a difficult time ignoring just how real it felt. It was uncomfortable to have these two vastly different and opposing feelings coming together (one being the hurt he caused her, paired with the comfort and joy she felt from him and his tender nature towards her) to clash internally in her mind, trying to fight for dominance over how she should 'feel' towards him. It was especially uncomfortable because before she didn't even have to 'think' about how she should feel about him; it had been effortless to simply feel nothing but lovely and pleasant things.

When she started working her lips and continued to stare at him, he thought she meant to spit in his face. He closed his eyes and recoiled his head further back, turning it away, knowing saliva being spewed into his face was the very least he deserved. She didn't spit in his face; she instead released the firm hold she had on his mask while sliding a hand over to give him a simple stroke on the side of the cheek. Myra found that one of her weaknesses was that she was always all-too-willing to forgive someone simply because she loathed confrontation. Just because she 'forgave' someone, however, didn't mean she'd forget. Myra held on to that kind of baggage like a grudge deep in her heart when someone wronged her. And Bane had definitely wronged her. However, the care and comfort he had provided her the last week while she recovered was undeniable gentle and far from 'monstrous' or 'evil'. It was almost as if he were attempting to be _so _kind and _so _gentle, as if his actions would echo backwards in time and undo the hurt he had caused her. She also couldn't ignore the care he had generally provided her prior to the 'incident'. She had never had anyone seem so utterly devoted to her before; it was delightful and alluring, and she knew that if he was suddenly removed from her life, she would have a much bigger darker hole due to his absence that she couldn't fathom anyone else being able to fill quite as expertly or competently as Bane. She didn't want to ruin that contented feeling quite just yet.

"...you're not a monster," Myra eventually sighed out.

She turned to leave the bathroom.

Bane quickly grabbed hold of her arm quickly.

Myra startled from his sudden grip, her eyes were large and wide as she looked up at him. The next question he directed at her, however, erased the tension she suddenly felt in her body.

"Would you mind assisting me with brushing my teeth?" Bane inquired quickly.

Myra stared, confused by his request, and also simply waiting for the shock to dissipate from her body. After several moments to adjust, she looked up at him skeptically.

"I think you can handle it. You're a big boy…" she said somewhat condescendingly.

Bane looked at her critically; it was obvious he wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer.

"I_ insist," _Bane said.

Myra sighed, shrugging her arm out of the hold he had on her arm.

"Okay, _fine. _Just restrain yourself from baring those monster fangs I'm assuming you've also been hiding from me," she sighed out, her tease indicating she had transitioned into a more relaxed mood and mindset.

Bane ignored her sassy remark and simply began to remove his mask, set it on the sink, and grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste. He then handed them to her. Myra just looked down at them curiously like she'd never seen a toothbrush or toothpaste before, then back up to him wondering why the hell he needed help with doing something he did _every day. _

Then something dawned on her. Her lips turned into a naughty, mischievous smile. Bane hadn't seen that level of mischief on her face in quite some time; it was refreshing, but also very much anticipated. He took a large swallow, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth wide as he prepared for the undeniable onslaught about to be incurred upon his mouth and face.

Myra loaded up the toothbrush with toothpaste in a hurry before bringing it up to insert into his mouth. She of course missed the first pass; the brush went clean across his face up into one of the nostrils of his crooked, broken nose. Whether it was by accident or on purpose was anyone's guess. Bane simply kept his eyes closed, ignoring the 'mishap', opting to take the mild abuse passively and stoically.

"Oops, sorry about that…" Myra said non-convincingly capped with a mild snicker.

She, of course, didn't want to hurt him regardless of what he had done to her. This, however, was hilarious and would undoubtedly help her to unload that hefty grudge she now carried in her heart '_a little bit'. _She loaded up more toothpaste, attempting another pass. She got it in his mouth, shoving it up into his gums and stretching his lips out. Bane's eyes slowly opened and he stared down at her as she did this. She was apparently enjoying the inconsequential lighthearted abuse to his face; she looked like a child with a giant marker on a clear, clean, white wall of a house, knowing they were being naughty but unable to restrain themselves. Bane closed his eyes again, letting out a mildly satisfied grunt through his nostrils. After several very aggressive swipes against his gum line, she paused.

"Why are your gums bleeding so much? Oh wait...is this blood of your _victims _that you swallowed whole?" she inquired, before continuing with the onslaught.

Bane responded with some level of difficulty due to the object and toothpaste in his mouth.

"My appetite didn't call for human flesh today, unfortunately. However, you _are _being a tad aggressive…" he mumbled out mostly coherently, opening his eyes into slits to just barely stare down at her.

The look Myra gave him very clearly indicated he was the last person on Earth that got to criticize someone else for being 'too aggressive'. His response only caused her to intensify her scrubbing in moderate ire. Myra used her finger to fishhook the side of his lip so she could dig into his mouth even deeper. She even stood up on her tiptoes so that she could peer into his mouth as she continued to fishhook his lip. She loaded up more toothpaste, making large sweeping gestures on his front teeth that caused his lips to swivel around like they were being swirled in a blender. He kept his eyes closed, though he did hear Myra let out a very light jovial chuckle at undoubtedly the amusing display before her.

"You have such crooked teeth...no monster fangs though, disappointingly," Myra observed with slight humor, scrutinizing his snaggly bottom row of pearly whites.

Bane briefly furrowed his brows at her unsolicited and unnecessary comment. He wasn't ashamed of his teeth, but he still had to fight the urge to simply close his mouth so she would stop her visual inspection and judgement.

She apparently had her fill of fun, for she removed the toothbrush and took a step back. She perhaps could see the tension building up in his muscles as his pain levels were rising from not wearing his mask. He had pushed the pain back, though water did start to erupt at the corner of his eyes as he waited longer and longer before he made any attempt at taking a breath from his mask. He knew that he deserved to feel every bit of pain that he felt, so he endured it while Myra had her fun, not wanting to interrupt her.

He quickly spat out the toothpaste in a coughing huff before slapping the mask over his face without properly latching it on. He let the moisture in his eyes dissipate, bringing a hand up to pinch over his eyes to rub out any lingering dew before he turned back to her. The teasing and satisfied grin she still had plastered on her face made it all worth it.

Myra went to turn and exit the room to give him privacy, but he quickly straightened his back out and blocked her in by bringing an arm out. He connected his arm to the wall across from him and in front of her direct path. She paused, confused, turning to look at him. He stared fixated on her as he took several more deep, slow, full breaths through his mask before he finally set it back down on the counter.

He then brought his other arm up to connect to the other side of her against the wall to cage her in. He eased himself closer, staring down at her with soft half-lidded eyes. Myra simply backed up against the wall, staring up at him curiously but cautiously. Her eyes stared transfixed on his eyes before they eventually fell down to his lips.

Bane let her stare for a handful of seconds before he eventually brandished her with a very deep, full smile that stretched nearly across his face. That, of course, caused her to reciprocate a deep smile in return; she rarely ever got to see him smile with his lips, and to see such a wide, full smile on his face made her inexplicably and deliriously happy despite the serious undertones of the conversation they were just having. It made her weak in the knees, even. It was impossible not to reciprocate, the pull to return the smile too great and beyond her control as if the corners of his lips were controlling marionette strings that attached to the corner of hers.

Bane moved one of his massive hands to settle behind her head to cup at the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. He then leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead, keeping his lips pressed centrally over her brows for several solid seconds as if he were inhaling all of her worries and unease right out of her consciousness. Myra closed her eyes as he then proceeded to move down the side of her face until his lips settled over her injured eyelid, the remnants of the injury barely visible but _he _knew it was there. He gave her eye several soft sweeps of his lips as if he were attempting to swallow up that pain right out of her eye before he brought his hand around to curl his finger under her chin to coax her head up so she could grant him better access to her jaw. His lips continued to make delicate sweeps across her skin, following the trail of mostly healed bruising around and under her jaw. He was slow and methodical, seeming to be in no rush despite the limited time he had without the use of his mask, ensuring each millimeter of her skin obtained the same delicate treatment. Myra fluttered her eyes open when she felt him lean away, feeling herself internally pout due to the sudden removal of feeling something so wonderful, but saw him simply reaching for his mask. He took in several deep puffs before he placed it back on the bathroom counter again, turning his attention back to her.

He brushed the side of her cheek with the crook of his finger several times before he leaned back down to place his full lips that still had the aromatic smell of minty toothpaste directly over hers. Myra leaned her head back and accepted his kiss willingly, even embarrassingly letting out a small faint whimper through her mouth directly into his at the feeling he was instilling into her body as well as the feel of his delicious, full, delicate and amazingly tender minty lips fully encapsulating hers. She had felt like it had been _ages _since she had experienced something so brilliantly magnificent. Bane's smile flickered slightly, the corners of his mouth curling upward at her faint but obvious mewling. He reacted to her encouraging sounds by involuntarily pressing his chest firmly against hers while bringing one of his knees forward to coax and settle between her thighs.

She loved being kissed by him. It was a sensational experience. It wasn't rough or precise like most of his actions tended to be. It wasn't firm or hard like most of his body was. It simply was soft and delicate like two flower petals doing delicate sweeping smooth dances over her skin. His kiss also wasn't performed as if he were attempting to satiate his own sexual hunger. It was a genuine display of affection and care. He didn't need to kiss her; in fact, she was positive he would prefer to keep his mask on because every time he took his mask off, he became vulnerable to the world. She loved seeing and experiencing that vulnerability. His face also had areas that were baby-soft from being protected and incubated behind a mask all day and night; it was like feeling newborn baby skin against hers. It was easy to identify these patches of skin because they were the much paler velvety-looking skin shaped like his mask bordered by geometric tanned hardened spots where the sun made unusual tan lines on his face. His lips, just like every other aspect of his body, were bigger and fuller than hers, despite the fact that her lips were perfectly plump and femininely full. She didn't mind being eclipsed. She loved the feeling of being fully consumed by him like a soft moist comforting blanket.

Myra reached forward and cradled his head between her hands, stroking and encouraging him to dig and dive deeper with his affections. Bane simply took another small step forward towards her, sandwiching her body solidly between him and the wall, ensuring no space existed between them. He eventually broke the kiss to look down at her lazily, his eyes darting to her beautifully swollen lips.

"I believe you may have to brush my teeth again; that filthy mouth of yours contaminated mine," Bane said as if he were deeply annoyed, huskiness thick in his voice.

Myra massaged his scalp with her fingers, grinning up at him. She let her fingers play against his baby-soft skin for several moments before she eventually nodded. He reached forward and grabbed her around her waist abruptly, swinging her around and hoisting her up to settle her bum up on the edge of the sink, letting her legs dangle down as she settled in a comfortable seated position. Bane stepped forward, claiming the space between her legs as his domain as he reached forward to grab the toothbrush and the toothpaste, handing it to her. As she was adjusting the toothbrush in her hand and adding paste to the bristles, he reached around her on the counter to grab his mask, bringing it to his face to take in several deep puffs as he stared at her intently, giving her all of his focus. He then reached around her again to put his mask back on the counter after getting his fill of medicine. He let his hand linger there, clutching lightly at her backside with his other hand now settling at her waist to support her so she didn't lose her balance on the sink. He then obliged her by leaning forward towards her and dutifully opened his mouth again, closing his eyes.

Myra didn't hold back; the light insult he made against her 'filthy mouth' definitely inspired her into a more moderate level of aggression. Her legs even began swinging playfully, brushing up against him as she lost herself in the indescribable pleasure that came with assaulting his mouth with a toothbrush and toothpaste. Bane just stood and took it without complaint, occasionally sweeping his large hand against her backside to squeeze and stroke.

When she was done with her second bout of brushing, he leaned around her and spat into the sink quickly. He then repeated the process of taking in several more puffs from his mask before turning his attention back to her. He simply repeated his affections by leaning forward, closing his eyes, and claiming her mouth with his own. She didn't resist. She cupped his face with both of her hands, brushing her lips against his, pulling back just a brief moment to whisper something into his exposed ear.

"I hope our children inherit your lips…" she whispered timidly, softly, yet unexpectedly sincere and hopeful.

Bane physically recoiled away from her like he got stung, feeling as if someone took a very sharp hot rod and stuck it straight into his heart. He swallowed hard, giving her a critical look before averting his gaze, seeing the hurt and questioning suddenly radiating off of her from his perceived rejection.

Bane's mind was racing.

The notion of him not being there to see what his own child would look like was not something he wanted to be reminded of, or be told. It forced him into a reality he didn't want to inhabit. And further yet, she used the word 'children'; as if she had every expectation of staying with him, _being _with him, long enough to bring forth into this world more little creatures of both their making. It brought him heartache, misery, and unexpected longing for something he knew he couldn't have. This reality seemed to be flaunted under his nose like one massively cruel taunt, and it was certainly painful.

Bane moved his averted gaze to stare down at Myra. He brought a hand up to rub against his face quickly, trying to downplay his actions as if rubbing out pain and tiredness. He looked up and saw the look that consumed Myra; it did not help with the heaviness he was feeling in his chest. He let out a huge sigh, bringing his lips forward to kiss her lightly but earnestly against her forehead.

"I apologize...my spine...gives me trouble on occasion...," Bane eased out in a smooth lie.

The effortless lie seemed to ease the tension that had built up in Myra's shoulders and face, a sigh audibly being emitted through her lips. She wrapped her hands around his head, drawing him in closer. She let her hands rub and sooth over his body as if attempting to ease that physical pain he had just claimed to experience. Her hands certainly were soothing, and certainly did soothe his pain although it was more of the emotional variety than the physical sort that he had just claimed it to be. After several moments and seeing his tension ease, she leaned forward and planted a single, full kiss against his lips before leaning back to look up at his face.

"I wish I could see your face all of the time," Myra confessed, her eyes roaming over every feature of his exposed face.

"I don't. Then you would have to endure the sight of my grotesque nose, scars, and...what was it you said? Ah yes. _Crooked teeth._ I would truly fit the image of a monster," he mused.

Myra grinned up at him, eyeing his ugly disfigured nose and scars on his face, loving them as much as she loved his full beautiful lips. She did not agree with him; she felt his mask was far more terrifying and 'monster like' than his exposed face could ever be. She leaned forward to kiss him again but he brought his head back teasingly as if still offended over the slight she had made against his teeth. Myra continued to grin, reaching out and grabbing the front of his shirt to reign him in.

"Come here…I love your snaggle teeth…." she begged, half joked.

He rolled his eyes as if he were being terribly inconvenienced, but relinquished control and allowed his head to be snared back towards hers so their lips could make contact. Bane felt Myra's tongue dip into his mouth shyly but slid along the bottom row of his teeth with confidence like she was running a finger along the keys of a piano; catching every little uneven angle and jutted tooth in the process. She loved it so much she repeated the sweep going back the way she came. Bane sighed into her mouth in an audible show of appreciation.

One of her hands slipped from his head down to his sizable shoulder and then over the hilly landscape of the muscles that covered his huge arms. They distracted her, her eyes diverting to watch the strain in his muscles as he gently moved his arms on either side of her.

"Why...why are you so _big," _she asked playfully, almost as if she were noticing how truly massive he was for the first time.

Bane didn't answer her question. He was too distracted by simply gazing at her. He was marveling, appreciating, and _loving _the glow that radiated off of her when she was truly open and candid with him. That glow of hers also highlighted her features as her eyes grazed over him like she was looking at rows and rows of candy at a candy store. It also strongly indicated he was solely responsible for that happiness that seemed to shine off of her. He was rarely blessed with anyone giving him such a look. He also hadn't seen that glow in her for what felt like an eternity. He brought his lips forward to flutter playfully against her ear after he properly basked in her radiant happiness.

"Why are you so _lovely, _hmm?" he whispered into her ear, ignoring her question.

Her attention got sucked back into his affections, butterflies fluttering and scrambling in her stomach as redness consumed her face. She opened her mouth to respond, but could not think of anything that adequately described the way she felt, so instead just leaned forward to cover her mouth with his. After several more moments of reciprocating affections, Bane eased back to grab his mask to take in several more puffs. After setting the mask back on the counter, his eyes darted to her.

"I think you need to brush my-" he started to say, but was caught off.

"_NYYEHHH_ I'M NOT BRUSHING YOUR TEETH ANYMORE. I'M DONE," she cried out, bringing a hand up to put over his lips as she made attempts to slide off the bathroom sink.

Bane backed up, letting her slink off the sink unimpeded. She stood there, adjusting her shirt, turning to look at the toothbrush on the counter.

"You know, we really should get electric toothbrushes. They would clean your teeth better," Myra offered politely.

Bane just gave her a look.

"I would not survive an electric toothbrush," he said seriously.

Myra just gave him an exasperated look as if she were offended at the veiled insinuation in his voice. She eventually grinned that devilish, playful grin up at him again before excusing herself from the bathroom to head to bed.

* * *

Myra and Bane were jostled awake that night from the shriek of a fire alarm. Myra lifted her head, groggy and confused. Bane leapt from the bed immediately, circling around to Myra's side of the bed to pull her out by the arm, disregarding her apparent lethargy and disorientation. He led her to the closet and immediately shimmied a loose shirt and pajama bottoms onto her body before shrugging a coat onto her arms before doing the same for himself, putting on his large shearling coat. He then led her out of the master suite without a word, leading her to the stairway since the elevators would undoubtedly be out of service. Bane used his body as he walked behind her to goad her to go faster, Myra looking passive and disinterested to whatever danger a fire alarm may indicate. They trudged the full length of stairs from the top floor to the bottom, which was no small feat. Myra, of course, groaned and mumbled complaints the whole way down. Bane simply ignored her.

They exited the building to the sight of everyone else who had inhabited the building congregated in a large crowd. Most were wearing coats over make-shift pajamas or simply wearing the clothes they wore that day without ever having changed. Bane walked past Myra, taking the lead. Myra simply followed him through the throng of people, staying close at his back both because she didn't want to have to think too hard about where she was going as well as trying to take advantage of the heat that tended to radiate off of his body.

They suddenly stopped after finding a decent space that wasn't heavily congested or crowded. Bane turned to Myra.

"Stay here," he said to her.

Bane looked around, and then spotted Barsad in the crowd. He made his way towards him, leaving Myra to stand passively and sleepily with her eyes looking like she was on the verge of falling asleep. Once he made it to Barsad, he made one last sweep of the crowd before directing his attention to him.

"Go and find out what the issue is," Bane ordered.

Barsad simply nodded before turning to leave back towards the building. Bane had no illusions about the fact that a fire department would likely not make an appearance to the tower to remedy the situation, considering the current state of Gotham. If there was an actual fire, he needed to arrange for a relocation. After watching Barsad duck back inside the building, he turned back to make his way to Myra.

She was gone.

His brows furrowed, scanning over the heads of the crowd of individuals. The unease in his chest slowly rises every second he didn't see her.

"_MYRA?" _he bellowed, turning his head to see if he could detect movement indicating she had heard him and she simply relocated.

Everyone around him went silent and turned their heads this way and that to see if they could spot her. Bane continued to scan the crowd, frantic. He suddenly picked up an unusual movement on the fringe of the crowd; a clumsily manicured-hand with bright pink nail polish raised up above the crowd briefly as if to snatch up towards the stars above before it was quickly and suddenly subdued by another hand, pulling it back down.

Bane charged forward, knocking over individuals like a bowling ball striking down bowling pins as he cleared a path for himself. It didn't take him long to see two men dragging a drugged-out looking Myra with a cloth over her mouth, undoubtedly chloroform.

He was unable to control himself. Red screened his vision, clouding his judgement. He jumped at the men like a giant stalking predator, grabbing the face of one of the men with his fingers, planting his hand firmly over it and simply squeezing until the man's face simply ripped clean off. This caused the man to reel in pain and shock, his screams real and terrible. Bane's head turned towards the other man, stomping his foot out to jab it into the man's calf, breaking it half, causing him to fall to one knee in pain from having his fibula bone audibly snap. Bane balled his fist and simply smashed it down on top of the man's head like he was playing a game of whack-a-mole. This caused a crater to form at the top of the man's skull, which undoubtedly caused instant death as his body simply slumped forward lazily and unmoving.

Bane's eyes darted back and forth between the two dead bodies, his rage bellowing out through his mask in large white puffs from the cold. He finally settles, his eyes slowly moving to Myra who had simply slumped to the ground, her body flanked by the two dead bodies on either side of her.

He moved towards her and bent down to pick her up, resting his arm under her rump and draping her arms over his shoulders and around his neck, wrapping his other arm firmly around her back to ensure her chest was firmly pressed against his with both of her legs simply dangling on either side of him. Her head slumped forward onto his shoulder, her eyes closed with her mouth hung open slightly.

Bane stalked back to the entrance. He noticed that the fire alarm had finally been disabled, the silence refreshing. He could hardly appreciate it, however, for he was still very much enraged and agitated. Barsad spotted Bane with Myra held loosely in his arms. Barsad approached, his face passive, eyeing Myra and simply assuming she was just being lazy and tired and wanted to be held and carried by Bane, who almost always obliged to these sorts of requests from her. The look that was radiating from Bane's features, however, told a vastly different story. Barsad picked up on Bane's rage and unease with his non-verbal cues immediately, transitioning his passive expression into one of concern.

"Someone tried to take her," Bane said, letting that fact sink in before he continued on with his next train of thought. "No one else is allowed back inside this building. Is that understood?" Bane asked as he waited for Barsad to give a confirmation.

Barsad turned towards the large crowd of individuals waiting to make it back into the building before turning back to Bane to give him a slow nod. Bane gives another simple nod in return before he bodily turned towards the crowd to address them.

"You have all been relocated to Wayne Industries building, henceforth," Bane shouted in a curt statement without further explanation before he turned back towards the building to make his way inside with Myra loaded and sagging in his arms.

Mumbled groans and discontent started radiating through the crowd; concerns about belongings, possessions, clothes, and other items still inside the penthouse building obviously on their mind. Bane could give two shits about their 'stuff'.

He made his way back into the building, the elevators now operable. As he entered the elevator and simply stood there with the elevator making its way up to the top level, his anger became unbearable. He could hardly think properly. He was upset that he killed the individuals that took Myra before questioning them properly. He was upset at being woken up in the middle of the night. But most of all, he was upset at the fumbling attempt by the two individuals at spiriting Myra away from him under the guise of what he could now only assume was a coordinated fire alarm panic. He stroked Myra's hair with his free hand, periodically moving his hand down behind her shoulder blade to give her a soft encouraging rub before they eventually made it back into their suite.

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 10 Days

That morning as Bane was preparing their meal, Myra sat at the kitchen counter sifting through a magazine and humming idly. She surprisingly had little recollection of the previous night's events; the chloroform seemed to have wiped her mind of what happened after she stood waiting for Bane to come back after he checked in with Barsad. This led Bane to conclude that they had snuck up on her, knocking her out before she even had a chance to realize what happened. It was remarkable that she had been able to outstretch a hand in distress while she was being taken away, despite being drugged; if he hadn't seen her hand, he's doubtful he would have found her. Bane didn't feel the need to alert her to the situation, which would only bring her panic and distress.

Bane placed a plate in front of her on top of the magazine she had been paging through which diverted her attention. He moved around to settle in his chair. He eyed her cautiously, knowing she was either prepared with questions or was on the verge of saying something insightful based on the way she had been absorbed in the reading material. He tried getting a glimpse of what it was she was reading but she simply used her elbow to shield the contents passively.

She waited until he took his mask off to take a sip of water before offloading 'facts' from the magazine article she was reading, pushing the plate of food aside so she could read the full contents unobstructed, momentarily ignoring the food.

"According to this article, there are an _abundant _of benefits to having sex while pregnant. 'Your developing baby is protected by the amniotic fluid in your uterus, as well as the strong muscles of the uterus itself. Sexual activity won't affect your baby.' Huh. _Interesting_. It also states that experts believe that sperm might be able to prevent preeclampsia, _cure morning sickness, _lower blood pressure, and improve sleep. Oh, and I guess improve intimacy with your partner but ehh, that one doesn't seem as important medically as the other ones," Myra said.

Bane could detect veiled sarcasm in her last comment. Nonetheless, he gave her a pointed stare at her decision to provide him with these very specific facts.

"Well, I seem to be suffering from morning sickness. I think my daily routine must be lacking in something, according to this article," Myra said wistfully, using her finger to point at it.

"Must be," Bane said, diverting his attention to the meal in front of him, not taking her bait.

He had other concerns on his mind. He needed to find Barsad and get him to watch Myra so he could settle a few matters. He was also still silently raging from the previous night's events. He was currently in no mood, his mind entirely consumed with tasks that needed to be performed elsewhere. Myra detected his mild indifference, though not detecting the rage he was feeling because he was doing a good job controlling it from a physical sense. She just shrugged her shoulders and started devouring her food.

* * *

Bane didn't know who it was that ordered for Myra to be taken, but he had an educated guess. He knew that Myra probably wouldn't have been harmed, but rather would have been used as a pawn to either toy with him or to be used as leverage for his continued obedience. That did not sit well with Bane. He also knew the difficulties associated with preventing someone from simply slipping into their shared living space and kidnapping Myra outright.

This thought became the main motivator for keeping 24-hour surveillance on her. He also boarded up the penthouse building, limiting the entrances to secured access points which essentially only allowed him and Barsad access. Large wood planks and sheets were boarded up over the windows around the perimeter of the lobby level to prevent individuals from simply breaking in and entering. The wood extended up several levels to also prevent someone from simply using a grappling tool to enter a window from a slightly higher vantage point. All of the items, including personal belongings of the individuals who had once inhabited the building, were unceremoniously rounded up and dumped into several large dump trucks directly outside the building for individuals to come and sift through to claim their property back. It was safe to say there was a slight riot and culmination of fist-fights from individuals claiming property that hadn't originally belonged to them. Several spurts of bullets into the air over their heads from some of Bane's men ended these disputes quickly.

It was obvious Myra was not a fan of her drastically diminished freedoms, particularly since it seemed to come out of nowhere with absolutely no explanation. She understood why she had her phone and 'job' revoked previously and why she was to stay in the master suite like Rapunzel stuck in her tower due to her personal involvement with the Special Forces officers, but she did not understand some of the new initiatives taken by Bane.

In response to these seemingly drastic and undesirable measures, Myra had made it a new habit of testing Bane's nerves and patience in ways that she hadn't done before as if she were re-evaluating her boundaries like a petulant child. These instances generally resulted in Bane getting frustrated or annoyed with her for her blatant disregard for her own safety and general antics and found it difficult to hide his frustration. He never lashed out at her with his frustration of course; instead, he let it build up and he worked constantly to push it down into his gut. He even held himself back when his attempts at inserting an ankle monitor on her to track her whereabouts at all times ended with him nearly having a heart attack when he got an alert that Myra appeared to either jump or get pushed from the penthouse upper story floor. He discovered she had simply shimmied it off of her ankle and threw it out the window. She had understandably been upset at a monitor bracelet even being slapped on her ankle without any explanation whatsoever from Bane, feeling it wholly unnecessary and uncomfortable since she wasn't going anywhere, anyway.

It was also obvious Myra had still held a slight grudge against Barsad after their hallway encounter in which Barsad appeared to shove her towards Bane like he was pushing her onto train tracks in front of a speeding train after Myra confusedly made advances towards him. Any 'romantic' feelings that her confused mindset had briefly entertained were summarily squashed that day, replaced with grudge. In fact, she gave him a stink eye every time she looked at him. Barsad didn't seem to care. He preferred the grudge over the other look she had given him that day.

When Bane had to leave on business, which was considerably more and more frequent due to the impending neutron bomb explosion, he sent Barsad up to the room to watch her. She just glared at him. Barsad just returned her gaze, bored with the idea that he was babysitting her again, though this time he was instructed not to let her stray from his sight regardless of the room she was in. Bane was taking no chances. Myra quickly became annoyed with constantly being watched, particularly if she had to use the restroom. Barsad turned his back away from her when she used the toilet to give her 'some' privacy, but the fact that he was still in the bathroom _with _her made her feel angry, suffocated, and claustrophobic.

She found that Barsad kept his distance, usually retreating to a different room and avoided looking at her, if she simply removed her clothing. She knew this was bold of her, and somewhat uncharacteristic and unexpected for Barsad, who's initial reaction was extreme confusion and speechlessness. She used that to her advantage to get him to leave her alone. She took to walking around naked in protest, fighting past her own insecurities and sense of modesty in exchange for some semblance of freedom and control. She put her clothes back on quickly when she heard Bane make his way back into the suite hours later.

After the second day of this stint, however, Barsad must have told Bane what kind of antics she was up to because he stormed into the suite midday well before he should have returned and beelined towards her before she even had a chance to look up. He found her looking shocked, sitting cross legged on the bed reading a book.

Naked.

Bane charged at her, grabbed her by the arm and practically dragged her bodily off the bed. Myra gasped and squealed in protest. Her body flailed awkwardly at being suddenly jerked off the bed. He brought her to her dresser, dragging her to it before she even had a proper chance to find her footing, and assisted her with the process of putting clothing on her by cramming a random shirt from inside a dresser drawer over her head paired with some sweatpants before giving her a firm shove out of the bedroom.

"Quit acting like a child. I had better not hear any more stories of your nakedness, unless you wish me to burn all of your clothes and that be the only option left to you," Bane seethed at her.

Myra just turned around and gave him a tight-lipped disheveled expression. Bane studied her for several seconds before he turned around and stormed out of the master suite to go back to attend to his business.

After Bane had left, Myra ambled into the kitchen where Barsad was seated casually. She glared at him, sitting across from him at the table. He simply returned her glare, unabashed. Bored. Myra internalized how the text conversation went between Bane and Barsad, with Barsad informing him of her status.

Barsad: hey boss. so...myra is naked.

Bane: What?

Barsad: she's walking around naked and appears to be doing it out of spite

Bane: ...

Bane: ...I'll be right there.

Bane: P.S. Don't look.

Myra started smiling at this imaginary conversation, invigorating a deep sense of curiosity. She continued to stare down Barsad, seeing that he was texting on his phone.

"Hey snitch. What did you write in your text to Bane to get him to run up here so fast, hmm?" Myra inquired.

Barsad continued to look down at his phone, unmoved and unphased by her question or new nickname for him.

"I didn't write anything," he mumbled, fixated on his phone.

"Liar," Myra snapped, finding that answer wholly insufficient.

Barsad's eyes slowly rose from the screen on his phone to her, giving her a bored and unimpressed look, before slowly sliding his phone over to her. Myra looked down, seeing the display of his phone featuring the conversation between him and Bane.

Barsad was right; there was no written text. It was just a picture of her that Barsad had clearly taken quickly from behind. It was a blurred and extremely unflattering image of her naked, with a 'seen' marked next to the image indicated Bane had simply seen it without replying with a confirmation text message.

Myra immediately gasped, however, at the unflattering naked photo, reaching for his phone to delete it. He just glared at her, snatching his phone away quickly. Myra's eyes were practically shooting lasers at him.

"_Delete it,'_" she fumed.

"No," Barsad said simply.

Myra got up and made an attempt at retrieving it physically, but Barsad simply got up from his chair and body-blocked her by rotating himself around so his back was facing her while outstretching the phone away from her. He did this until she grew tired and gave up. She went back to sit in her chair, giving him a deathly stare while mumbling words under her breath at him.

They sat that way for several hours until Myra heard the distinct noise of someone entering the master suite. She jumped up from her chair and practically ran to the entrance. Barsad followed at a much slower and reluctant pace.

When Myra saw Bane fully enter the room and close the door behind himself, she practically plowed into him as she brought a hand up to clutch at his chest to steady herself. She couldn't get the words she needed to say to him out fast enough.

Bane had immediately stopped in his tracks, giving Myra his full and undivided attention as soon as she rushed up to him and had seen that she had a moderate amount of distress and something urgent to tell him. Bane had a look of concern on his face as his hand compulsively came up to reach forward to cup her cheek as she stared up at him, her chest slightly heaving from the sudden acute exertion of hustling to him from the kitchen at such a speedy pace. Myra navigated and steered her cheek directly into his palm for full-pity effect. One of her hands continued to clutch at his chest for emphasis, her eyes large and dewy with lips slightly parted. She milked her expression for all she was worth, knowing how to pluck at Bane's heart strings like a harp when she needed to.

Barsad watched from the corner, his brows furrowed and nearly giving out an aggravated sigh at Myra's theatrics as she very clearly played Bane like a fiddle for sympathy and attention.

"Barsad has pictures of me naked on his phone," Myra spat out quickly, dismayed, pointing her free arm accusingly at Barsad.

Bane nearly missed her rushed words, his eyes roaming over her distressed face, relieved to know she wasn't hurt or injured after his eyes did a sweeping glance over her body. He brought his free hand up to cover her hand that had found its way onto his chest. He focused on her dismayed widened eyes staring up at him, very clearly wanting him – and _only _him - to fix and resolve whatever was tormenting her.

Bane's thumb stroked her cheek as she continued to stare at him expectantly as she waited impatiently for him to react to her words, several seconds passing by as he savored her gentle touch and gaze before he finally processed her words. He blinked several times in confusion, not quite sure he had fully understood what she said, before his expression quickly transitioned into pure malice as his face slowly turned towards Barsad, heat as intense as a thousand suns practically shooting out of his eyes. The chilling look Bane was directing towards Barsad made Barsad immediately remove his phone from his pocket and scurry towards him to surrender it over.

Bane detached himself from Myra and took a step back to analyze the contents of the phone. Barsad glared at Myra. Myra glared at Barsad as Bane stood between them with his head bent down as he searched through Barsad's phone and systematically deleted any remnants of blurry images of Myra's nakedness. Bane had the audacity to even chuckle a few times during this purge from whatever picture he had seen, causing Myra to snap her neck to Bane and glare at him too, wanting to see the image that Bane had found so humorous. He just batted her away when she tried to look.

When Bane was done, he handed over the phone to Barsad. Barsad brought his hand to take hold of it but noticed Bane's firm grip still held onto it tightly, not letting go. Barsad lifted his eyes to meet Bane's gaze, understanding the warning clearly as he returned the gaze. He eventually released his hold on the phone. Bane's eyes turned back towards Myra, clearly agitated.

"Are you two done acting like children?" Bane snapped suddenly.

Myra turned her eyes from Bane to glare at Barsad. Barsad lazily glared back. Bane let out an agitated huff through his mask. He pointed a finger into Myra's face.

"_You. _I had better not get any indicators about you being naked," he said angrily.

Myra's face immediately lit up into pure sass, smirking and all ready to retort and twist his words to indicate his blanket statement must also refer to their own personal encounters. She took in a breath, ready to reply with sass but Bane was already ahead of her, detecting the shift in her face and the misfortunate formulation of his words.

"_YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN,_" Bane fumed angrily through his mask, his impatience clearly rising.

Myra's face immediately deflated, returning her anger back to Barsad, who she saw looked uncomfortable with a shade of red coating his cheeks from the brief but suggestive verbal exchange that just took place in front of him.

"_You_. Restrain yourself from taking photos of her. Understood?" he barked, nearing his patience threshold.

It was obvious he wasn't making a request; he was demanding they abide by these conditions. Myra and Barsad just eyed each other. Barsad made mumbling noises of agreement, but Myra remained silent. Bane's eyes turned to bore into Myra as he waited for her verbal confirmation. Myra shifted her gaze from Barsad after detecting the intensity of Bane's glare; she simply returned it with equal ferocity sprinkled with a little bit of sass, very clearly refusing to comply. Feeling as if she shouldn't _have _to; she felt like she was unjustly being punished. They engaged in this 'stand off' until Bane's eyes flickered back towards Barsad.

"Leave us," Bane said to Barsad, before his eyes flickered back to Myra.

Barsad didn't need to be told twice; he left without another word, not caring to get in the middle of the stand-off that seemed to be happening between Bane and Myra. Once Barsad left with the 'click' of the door indicating he shut it behind him, Bane brought his arms up to grab Myra by the shoulders roughly as he then proceeded to steer her to the bedroom.

Myra swung her head to look at him, seeing that he had the look indicating he had undoubtedly capped his patience threshold. He also undoubtedly had something else clearly on his mind based on the large protruding bulge at the front of his cargo pants which caught Myra's attention. Her eyes focused on it for several seconds before she let a deep knowing smirk spread across her lips, assuming the systematic deletion of her nude photo captures from Barsad's phone may have inadvertently incited an arousal from him, regardless of how unflattering or even humorous they were. Based on the fact that he was steering her to the bedroom, she also made her assumptions about what his plans for her were.

"...this activity might be a bit difficult, what with my inability to be naked around anyone and all," she said, getting more much-needed sass off of her chest while also being in the mindset of clearly testing his patience.

"_SILENCE,_" he barked at her, giving her a shake by the arm he held her. It did not appear that he found her sass presently humorous based on the vein Myra spotted sprouting on the side of his head.

Myra looked him over and the anger he was exuding. Despite him practically dripping with frustration and anger, she felt moderately exhilarated. She also inexplicably didn't feel her 'Spidey-Sense' telling her she was in mortal danger and should shut the hell up unless she wanted to get physically assaulted. She couldn't explain why, but she loved knowing that her words and actions were getting such an irrational and angry response from him, particularly over something that seemed so petty and inconsequential.

When they made it to the edge of the bed, Bane pushed her forward, nearly causing the wind to get knocked out of her lungs from the unexpected force of his palm at the center of her back into the bed. She started to squirm, but Bane simply bent down and pushed against her back to hold her down to pin her against the bed with one hand, practically grinding her down into the mattress so she wouldn't move. He then shimmied his hand underneath her front to grab hold of her pants waistband, giving a strong tug to pull both her baggy sweat pants and underwear off until they fell around her ankles. He bent his body down to force them off of her feet, never removing his hand from her back as he did so. Myra just stared at nothing in particular, her chin rested firmly against the mattress, her eyes wide. She was silently building up an explosion of more sass.

They continued to say nothing to each other as Bane systematically pulled off the rest of Myra's clothes, his actions causing him to breathe irregularly through his mask from the exertion toppled with his disgruntled attitude. It caused a periodic raspy wheeze noise that permeated the bedroom, reminding Myra of a lung cancer patient having to use an oxygen tank. She bent her head forward to hide her smirk into the mattress, deciding to keep that thought to herself knowing he wouldn't appreciate being compared to a severely ill cancerous individual.

When Bane was done, he straightened his back and proceeded to systematically remove his own clothing. He maintained a wide-eyed, agitated, unwavering stare that was focused on the back of her head as he did this. Myra could detect the intensity of her gaze, so she fidgeted her head to the side to peer at him while he undressed.

"I don't know about you, but this whole situation seems counter-productive to your stance on 'nakedness'" she teased - _SASSED. _

That seemed to be the last straw for Bane. He grabbed her by the hips to yank hers up closer to his. He gripped her firmly, then used his hand to push her upper body further down to ensure her torso was thoroughly pressed against the bed as she continued to bend forward at the waist. She had never had sex with Bane when he was _truly_ agitated, angry, or annoyed; it was beginning to be a rousing experience. He removed small delicacies and acts of gentleness from the process and instead simply replaced it with acts of dominance and control that made sure she knew who was in charge of the situation. It was shamelessly arousing. It made her want to be sassier and entice him further. It made her feel _naughty_. She eventually felt his hand move between their bodies as he grabbed hold of his considerable erection to position the head to her entrance.

Before she knew what hit her, she felt him make a massive thrust as he snaked his way inside of her, feeling herself being completely filled up by him almost instantaneously. It was a shock to her system. Myra balked, speechless at the sensation and the force behind his actions. It wasn't wholly unpleasant; just unexpectedly intense and breathtaking. It didn't take long before he started driving into her in with deep methodical thrusts, moving one of his feet back for better leverage as he drove himself forward into her.

"_I'VE…HAD…ENOUGH…OF YOUR….SASS,_" he practically bellowed between the grunts he made after each strong thrust he used to propel into her.

Despite Bane's very clear and somewhat (un)successful attempts at asserting his annoyance and displeasure with her, as well as the air being stolen from her lungs momentarily from the obvious shock to her system, Myra couldn't help herself. After she felt her lungs inflate with an adequate amount of air, she began her next assault.

"Yes...but clearly...you haven't...had enough...of my _ASS_," she smirked, her eyes shut from the force he was utilizing to drive into her, her words flying out quickly between his massive thrusts that pushed the wind out of her lungs with each onslaught.

She tried leveraging herself down on her forearms to look over her shoulder to see whether her words caused him to seethe further, but he simply began driving into her harder in a possible attempt to thwart her prying eyes. This caused her to bring her arms out in front of her to stabilize herself as well as to prevent her from sliding uncomfortably around on the bed as Bane's thrusts became vicious and erratic in both strength and the trajectory he chose to enter her. She started to get the sensation that Bane was simply trying to drill the sass right out of her body like a jackhammer. It was working, to some extent; every thrust he delivered felt like he was expelling the air right out of her lungs, making it difficult to attempt formulating words or complete sentences; to _sass _at him. It also started to become exceedingly difficult to simply ignore the growing sensation and tingling she was feeling between her legs.

"I thought...I made...myself clear...about...you..._hurting me_...again," Myra managed to get out between gasps. She almost wished she hadn't chosen to use that line for her next sass attack; she would be extremely regretful if Bane suddenly stopped to reflect upon his current actions due to her words. He ignored her, thankfully.

"You..._YOU...saucy...DECEIVER...y_our..._SLIPPERY...CUNT...paints a..._picture._..._that is...far from_...DISTRESSED," _he said, over-emphasizing the 't' in 'cunt' by expelling an emphasis of air between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He also emitted the word 'distressed' with a combined guttural groan that reverberated through his mask. He clenched his eyes closed as he found a second-wind in strength to drive his hips forward.

Myra audibly gasped, looking visibly scandalized as she snapped her head back to try and give him an open-mouthed wide-eyed look of shock. She had never heard him say anything quite so vulgar to her before. She couldn't quite get her heard turned around to look at him properly, so instead had to settle by facing forward, letting her eyes momentarily wander around as she settled down from the rush of feeling scandalized. She continued to muse over his choice of words, feeling inexplicably more aroused by his rare foul mouth display. Bane always seemed to practice a certain level of verbal politeness, regardless of who he was talking to or what the situation was. However, being told that she was a 'saucy deceiver' with a 'slippery cunt' was decidedly _not _polite.

All it did was make her want to be naughtier. To be _sassier. _She decided to continue her verbal onslaught while Bane continued his physical one.

"Did you...kiss your..._mother..._with that...foul mouth?" Myra managed to get out in a snide.

"I've only...ever kissed..._YOU_...with this..._mouth..." _he heaved.

"Well it's..._FILTHY," _Myra practically groaned out, her words inflected to sound as if she were shaming him and she were the moral superior.

Bane just audibly growled at her, his hands briefly readjusting against her hips before yanking her into a more erect angle for him to enter her. He then adjusted his thrusts to be low full ruts, not even bothering to remove himself from her even a fraction as he simply maintained a physical connection. This caused her to jostle forward clumsily from the power he used behind the ruts. She could definitely feel him 'tapping out' inside of her, reaching the furthest reaches of her body before she felt the unmistakable pressure of his cock as it pushed against her cervix as if to say "That's it, bud; you can't go in any further." Bane didn't like to be told what to do, however, so he simply thrust himself in regardless, causing her inner walls to stretch and accommodate his length and girth instead. It was similar to how he acted in life in general; forcing others to accommodate his size and mass, pushing forward regardless of what was impeding his way. This was no 'light tickle' against her cervix, either; this was more like a hoard of Black Friday shoppers trying to push through a store entrance that wasn't meant to be opened, with a weak sales employee on the other end unable to do much other than stand there, gawk, and hope the doors don't bust down.

After feeling herself physically relax despite her insides painfully stretching beyond her imagination paired with an extra slick layer of arousal, she eventually started feeling something very soft-textured bouncing lightly near her entrance, undoubtedly his scrotum, as it became obvious he was finally fully inserted up to the hilt like a custom-fit glove just for him. She felt as if her body had simply absorbed the length of him right up into herself, refusing to let him go.

"What are... you trying... to do... push the... baby…. _right out of me_?" Myra quipped finally, giving him a glare over her shoulder; she was only joking of course.

Bane, however, immediately eased up on his thrusts and even slowed down, his eyes softening at the implication of her words. After a second or two of contemplating the actual reality of her words even being a possibility (newsflash: it wasn't), he furrowed his brows and gripped her hips harder, becoming angrier when he saw her visibly snicker at such a ridiculous thought. He also became enraged that he had even been momentarily duped into being sympathetic. He sounded as if he was revving himself up; a bull expelling large puffs of smoke out of his nostrils (mask) as if he were on the verge of charging. He then proceeded to double down on his efforts. Myra finally decided she had enough of her sass and eased up, closing her eyes to simply enjoy the ride.

Being taken by Bane was definitely a full-sensory experience for Myra. What with the feel of his large, calloused hands as they gripped her hips toppled with being pumped full of his length with inhuman strength, the distinct and unmistakable sound of his breath as it became amplified and emitted out through his mask in periodic mechanical wheezes. The sound of her arousal elevating to such a degree that she could hear the loud wet slopping sounds every time he pumped into her. His sounds of disgruntlement eventually transitioned into ones of pleasure and satisfaction, his ears finding those soft wet noises as pleasurable to the ears as she undoubtedly did. For him it was indicator that he was causing her such an elevated arousal due to the pleasure she was feeling due to _him_ that her body was practically bursting at the seams. It's what allowed him to even physically penetrate her as deep as he was. It also gave him a significant amount of pride and satisfaction, knowing he was responsible for it.

Bane had had his fair share of sexual encounters prior to Myra, yet he never engaged in intercourse with a woman that lubed up quite like the way she did for him. He was usually met with sandpaper-like resistance, or a very low moderate amount of wetted arousal that barely allowed him to penetrate deeper than a few inches due to his own size and girth. Yet, with Myra, it was almost as if as soon as his body communicated to hers of his intentions, she turned on like a faucet. He _loved _it.

When Bane sensed Myra finally subduing, submitting, and reigning in her sass, he rewarded her by bringing a hand around her front to gently stroke her between her legs at her nub in unison with his thrusts. This made Myra soften up and relax considerably, the release of her orgasm obvious based on the way her toes began fidgeting and her hands clenching at the bedding, emitting a long-winded gasp through her lips that indicated she had reached her peak from a mind-blowing combined effort of a clitoral and cervix-stimulated-induced orgasm. She was practically choking on the sensation that consumed her whole body, the usual dense tingling that tended to settle between her legs during a regular orgasm was now fully spread out to branch throughout her nerves all the way to her fingertips, leaving her speechless, breathless, and dewy-eyed. It took almost no time for Bane to follow her lead, spilling himself deep inside of her like a sensational spritz of energy which only caused Myra's toes to curl further from that unmistakable feel of his very special formula filling up any available crevice inside of her that wasn't already consumed by his cock.

Bane's efforts caused him such extreme exhaustion that after his cock made that last quivering and pulsing motion to indicate he had fully expelled himself inside of her, he simply lurched forward over top of her, not even bothering to remove himself from within her, his mask practically digging between her shoulder blades. The weight of his body collapsing over hers also caused her to sink fully into the bed, a loud "OOF" escaping her lips, followed by weak struggling. Bane responded to her pathetic struggles by leaning forward a bit more to rest his arms on either side of her body to redistribute some of his weight off of her as he continued to regain his breath, composure, and stamina, large strong breaths emitting through this grill of his mask directly into her back. He turned his head to the side to rest the exposed portion of his cheek against her flesh, savoring the warmth radiating off of her back against his skin. One of his hands reached down to gently rub her oily and sweaty hip in unison with his haggard breathing as if he were attempting to sooth and comfort her. She most certainly wasn't distressed, however, but appreciated the gentle strokes against the exposed skin on her hip, feeling as if his soothing strokes were attempts by him to slowly guide her down from the sky due to the massive high she had felt from her climax. She also felt like the marshmallow in a S'more; Bane and the bed were the graham crackers, and she was the soft white fluff that was being visibly squished by two opposing forces. She was too numb, elevated, and tingly to care.

He closed his eyes for several moments before eventually opening them, easing himself gently from Myra's body with considerable care. He moved one of his hands to trail along her spine in a soft and delicate gesture, which was a stark contrast to how his actions had been up to that point, before straightening his posture.

Myra rolled onto her back after sensing him exit her body, staring up at him lazily. She then outstretched her arms to him wordlessly as a clear indicator she simply wanted to be picked up or held. Bane leaned forward again, somewhat tiredly due to his stamina still not fully recovered, but obliged her by scooping her up off of the bed to hold her like a koala. Myra wrapped her legs firmly around his middle, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly, seemingly indifferent to the fact that she was bare naked. She rested her lips against his bulging trapezius muscle, enjoying the taste of his salty sweat and oil that were dripping off of his body, making periodic light brushing strokes with her lips as if she were scooping up that taste directly into her mouth. Bane cupped her by her bottom as he walked them both to the kitchen, his pace slow and lethargic but ensuring the hold he had around her was strong and secure. He adjusted one of his arms so he could open the fridge to retrieve several cold bottles of water, tucking them in front of Myra's chest and between their bodies for a temporary placeholder before making his way back to the bedroom.

During this short transit, it started to become difficult to determine who's oil and sweat belonged to whom as their bodies still had a slight sheen of perspiration, Bane's more so than Myra's. He moved to Myra's side of the bed, leaning forward to dump her onto the mattress, placing the cold water bottle on her nightstand before he moved to his side of the bed. He settled in bed, resting his back against the headboard as he fumbled to remove his mask. He was still slightly out of breath and looking disoriented, but uncapped the bottle of water hurriedly to satiate the thirst he undoubtedly was experiencing. Myra just lay on her side of the bed on her stomach with her chin resting in her hands as she stared at him affectionately as he recovered from his exertion. She eventually fell asleep in that position.

* * *

Myra woke up not too much later to the feel of vibration. She lifted her head, confused, before her eyes darted to Bane's phone being lit up. It was placed between her and Bane's body on the bed; Bane had very clearly fallen asleep sitting up with his back to the bed's headboard, exhausted from the physical toll of their sexual endeavors. He must have made attempts at using his phone before he simply put it down on the bed to doze asleep.

She craned her head to see what the contents on the phone read, feeling some level of withdrawals from the outside world due to her own phone being taken away. She gasped, however, not because of the content of the message, but because of the background image that Bane was using on his phone; her blurry unflattering naked photo. She snatched her hand out at it. Bane had woken up to the vibration also, however, and was much quicker than she was. He snatched it up before she did.

"What are you doing! Delete it!" she gasped. .

"No," he said, eyeing her before continuing. "I may even change it, now that you uncovered that cache of photos on Barsad's phone. A few are _QUITE_ humorous. Thank you for that added delight to my day," he teased.

"There was a _CACHE!_?" she exclaimed, clearly assuming there might have been one or two photos on Barsad's phone. Not a 'cache'; ones even humorous enough to elicit laughter out of Bane.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Doesn't it even concern you that he had a bunch of nude pictures of me on his phone!?" she whined.

Bane just dismissed her.

"Rest assured; while they may have been nudes, they were more hilarious than suggestive. I highly doubt he was collecting them for his personal use. He had much lovelier images of his wife stored on his phone, which I'm embarrassed to admit also included nudes_. _They were quite lovely," Bane finished thoughtfully, though he did seemed somewhat embarrassed at the prospect of invading Barsad's very private set of images in the manner he did. Barsad had no chance to warn or divert him of the content; he simply handed his phone over before Bane decided to rip his head off. That was perhaps what fueled the unusual glares from Barsad at Myra.

Myra glared daggers at him.

"If they were so dang funny, then why did you get such a massive erection from looking at them, _hmmmm_? Was it from looking at the more 'lovely' nude photo of Barsad's wife?" Myra retorted, angry, slightly jealous, but also knowing she was treading on somewhat dangerous grounds by insinuating that Bane had become aroused from deeply private and personal photographs of Barsad's wife.

Bane whipped his head towards her, his eyes narrowing.

"Of course her photos didn't incite my arousal. I barely looked at them. I only had eyes for you and your absurd tendency to be captured in the most unfortunate of poses and facial expressions. Lucky for you, your humor happens to be one of my favorite attributes about you. Your humor paired with with a body I most certainly find physically attractive…" Bane said as he brought a hand out to stroke the exposed skin on her back which Myra quickly swatted away like she was swatting a fly, still clearly annoyed. "...was of course a very pleasant and titillating surprise. I also very much doubt Barsad would find them as sensual or alluring as I do since those photos are most definitely an acquired taste," Bane said teasingly, bringing a hand up to poke her forehead for emphasis.

Myra was not pleased.

"WHY DON'T I JUST WALK AROUND DRESSED LIKE A SEXY CLOWN THEN? Then you would get to walk around with a permanent erection!" she gawked.

Bane found that notion quite hilarious.

"Please do," he said simply, amused, matching her threat as he gazed down at her humorously.

Myra continued to glare and fidget. She even let out a raspy growl. Bane just continued to stare at her display. He eventually put his phone down on his nightstand before lacing his fingers together to rest against his chest. Myra stared for several seconds before she made several aggravated huffs, throwing the blanket over her and burrowing her head into her pillow so she didn't have to look at his teasing face.

Myra waited until she could detect that Bane was asleep before she made her move. She eased out of bed as sneakily as she could, being slow and careful so as not to disturb the mattress. She snuck around to his side of the bed. She wanted to delete the pictures he had on his phone of her, and replace it with a nice big picture of his bare ass, which she was not currently staring at as he lay on his side with his back to her. As she was reaching for his phone, however, Bane shifted in the bed. His head snatched up and turned to the side to glare at her over his shoulder.

"What are you doing," he spat out.

Myra stared wide-eyed, her mouth dropping open at suddenly being found out. Bane shifted in bed quickly and snatched out to grab her by the wrist, applying moderate pressure.

"Nothing!" she squealed.

He squeezed harder.

"Ow! Fine! I was going to delete those images and replace it with a picture of your bare butt. Happy?" she huffed out, squirming against the pressure he was applying to her wrist.

Bane stared at her for several moments with an emotionless stare. It wasn't long before he made his move, however. He leveraged himself up into a seated position and snatched at her before she could realize she should try and get out of his reach. He bodily dragged her over his lap to expose her own bare butt to him. Before she even realized or comprehended what was happening, she felt a sudden slap against one of her butt cheeks. Her eyes enlarged, her back arching and going rigid from the unexpectedness of it before she started struggling, trying to roll off of his lap. He held her tight prone over his lap, not letting her escape quite yet.

"OW, what are you _DOING?!_!" she shouted out in alarm.

"You have been considerably _NAUGHTY _lately, hmm?!" he fumed, winding his hand back dramatically before giving her another loud spank.

Despite the pain from the slap on her bare cheeks, she couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. A burst of air combined with a laugh escaped her lips.

"_STOP THAT," _she shouted. Her laugh and high-pitched lighthearted squealing, of course, only encouraged him to give her one final smack on her rump before shoving her off of his lap, her butt cheeks inflamed with a large red handprint.

"You had better adjust that attitude of yours, for your sake," he warned her; Myra knew he wasn't' joking, despite the playful and lighthearted punishment he just distributed to her bare behind. He gave her a warning glare before getting up, grabbing his phone, and marching to the bathroom. Myra simply watched him while she softly rubbed her butt with her hand. She stuck her tongue out at him as he retreated into the bathroom before making it back to her side of the bed.

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 9 Days

The next day when Bane returned, relieving Barsad of his duties of watching Myra, he threw something at Myra in passing. She startled, unsure of what it was he was throwing at her, her body leaning away before she realized it was something soft, plush, and fuzzy.

"Here. This reminded me of you," he said as he stalked towards the kitchen.

Myra looked down. It was a stuffed animal of a baboon with a huge shiny red ass. Myra stared at it, rotating it in her hands, squeezed it, and then fumed. She threw it at the back of his retreating head. It bounced off with a soft 'fluff' sound.

Bane stopped on his tracks, slowly turning towards her. He gave her a threatening glare. Myra stared back, knowing the look he was giving her wasn't anything good. She thought what she just did was quite hilarious, however, so she sprinted away in a giggling fit.

Bane stormed after her. He caught up to her effortlessly, dragging her to a recliner chair in the living room where he sat down firmly. He threw and draped her over his knee chest-first, holding her tightly with one hand to prevent her from squirming. He yanked down her pants to expose her bottom to him like a shiny globe. He paused, staring at the back of her head, winding his open palm back before unleashing a loud 'smack' on her bottom.

"OW. STOP _spanking _me!" She shouted, twisting her body to make his job slightly harder.

Bane gave her another smack.

"I will when you stop giving me reasons to," he reasoned.

_SLAP. _

"Besides, I'm finding that I quite enjoy it," he confessed lightheartedly.

_SLAP._

"I have a sneaking suspicion you do too," he said with another slap on her cheek.

"I _DO NOT_. That is _ABSURD,_" she said, aghast.

_SLAP_

"Oh really? Then why the sudden penchant for your naughty behavior, hmmm? _And your limitless sass?_" Bane teased.

_SLAP. _

"I clearly remember stipulating that I would leave your ass if you bruised me again. Are you spanking me hard enough to bruise me? You better not be," Myra goaded.

Bane paused immediately, his hand frozen in mid-air as he turned to look at her.

"Would you like me to stop?" he asked seriously, genuine concern written in his features.

Myra was startled by the question. Her eyes wandered around the room quickly as she internally thought about her answer, unable to decide. She had been mostly joking when she asked the question; she felt he wasn't spanking her hard enough to elicit bruises. She also knew she shouldn't _like _being spanked, nor could she ever recollect being spanked as an adult _by _an adult; but this was 'funny' and somewhat exhilarating, and she couldn't really explain why. She also had never really found the concept of being spanked as 'sexy'; yet, every slap he delivered to her rump left tingles that occasionally flared and extended to settle between her legs due to the connecting nerves that were in such close proximity to the ones in her rump. After several very long moments of silence, Bane's brows furrowed at her inability to provide a clear or quick answer, which in itself was answer enough for him as he gave her another healthy slap on her round behind. Her lighthearted and periodic giggles didn't help her cause.

He rubbed his open palm over her bare cheek as if in an attempt to wipe the red hand mark that had started to form there. After several moments of this, he gave her another loud open-handed spank on her bottom. After he did this, he shoved her up and off of him, propelling her several feet away. Myra turned around and glared at him after finding her footing while she rubbed her sore ass. She worked her mouth as if she were formulating something sassy to say.

Bane leaned forward in his seat as if in anticipation, resting his forearms on his knees, raising his eyebrows at her as if daring her to say something. She took several more steps away from him as she rubbed her bottom.

She wisely said nothing, deciding to bide her time for the next time she saw his exposed bare ass to unleash her own assault.

* * *

Bane had started making a habit of walking conspicuously around the master suite with some type of snack food in his hand as if he were snacking on it passively. He even kept one of his hands dipped into the bag as if he were on the verge of eating from it. He, of course, rarely did that. Never did that. Myra knew this was a façade; he had to take his mask off to eat, so him walking around with food in his hand very clearly meant that wasn't for him.

He would approach her with a few pieces of whatever food he had in his fingers before he would then coyly intercept her.

"This is quite delicious. You should have a taste," he would say. Myra would stop what she was doing reluctantly, eye the food he was coercing her into eating - usually gross healthy but nutritious food- before reluctantly opening her mouth while he gingerly placed the food into it. She would slowly chew it, eye him, and then swallow.

After seeing her consume and accept the food, Bane would then simply hand her the bag of food.

"You can have the rest. I'm done with it," he would say before walking off.

He did this so frequently that whenever she saw Bane holding any food item, she immediately just stopped and opened her mouth like a baby bird waiting for the mama bird to plop worms into her mouth. She even became conditioned to outstretch her hands for him to place the container of food into her hands after placing the initial portion into her mouth before he eventually marched off, verbal explanation no longer necessary.

She even joked with him about this habit.

"You have to stop. I'm going to get fat," she confessed.

"Excellent. I like a woman with some meat on her bones," was his simple sincere response.

Myra's eyes wandered around awkwardly. He had 'tastes' in woman? That simple statement from Bane was too intriguing for Myra not to dig deeper.

"Oh you do, do you? What else do you like your women to be like, _hmmmmm_?" Myra inquired.

Bane's eyes shifted to her in a bored manner, knowing she was fishing for nonsense.

"I have a penchant for brunettes too, if I'm honest. Perhaps some freckles," he continued.

Myra's eyes bulged. She clearly had none of these things.

"Is that your final answer?" Myra said in a manner that indicated there were repercussions if he chose to answer poorly.

Bane gave her another bored glance.

"I like a woman with elegance and grace, too. Someone who knows how to walk properly on her own two feet. Isn't clumsy," he continued his tease.

Myra just jutted out her lips, knowing he was teasing her but it still stung a little to not have him list even one attribute that described her, especially when some of the things he was saying were exact opposites of what she was. Her eyes fell to stare at his chest for several seconds as she contemplated his words before she quickly turned around to stalk off, crossing her arms over her chest as a clear indicator she had enough of 'that game'.

Bane moved to quickly stop her before she stalked off too far, detecting her soured mood and hurt feelings.

"I'm only teasing. Am I not allowed to tease, too?" he asked sincerely while slowly sliding both his arms around her from behind at her back, resting his chin on her shoulder to look down over at the profile of her pouting face.

"NO," she fumed.

Bane started swaying their bodies, letting the silence following her response highlight the ridiculousness of it.

"Ah. I see," he finally said softly, continuing his soft rhythmic swaying. "Would you like to know where my true tastes in a woman lie?" he asked in a husky voice into her ear.

Myra subdued somewhat, though she was still pouting.

"...yes," she mumbled out.

Bane leaned closer so that the tip of his mask brushed against her ear.

"It's in a woman who can cook a good homegrown meal," he said softly, clearly still unable to reign in his tease. He also very clearly knew Myra couldn't cook worth a damn.

The fallout from his inability to control himself and his persistent tease resulted him having to subdue, pacify, and console a very agitated and squirmy-wormy Myra in his arms. She also wasn't fully consoled until Bane individually listed all of the characteristics he specifically liked about her, and then sign a document that Myra wrote up that was a legal contract indicating his preferences in women from then-on-out had to strictly adhere to those listed in the document. Considering some of those characteristics included things like, "Having a name of Myra Bell", "Is clumsy", "Has to have a scar on her lower back and forehead from a childhood trauma", his apparent future preferences were very narrowed. He signed it obligingly, despite eying several added clauses and stipulations that Myra had snuck into the document. They included things like, "Must get Myra ice cream whenever Myra says so," "Must provide foot rubs when asked", "Must get cheese pizza regardless of the hour". Considering he did all of these things anyway, he didn't point them out. He also didn't question the actual legality of the document, which was outright nonsense. Myra pinned the signed contract on the fridge, glaring at him as if taunting or daring him to break the guidelines outlined in the contract as if she were threatening to 'SEE HIM IN COURT" if he did so. He did not want to break the news to her and draw attention to the fact that he had a moderate level of influence over the current court system in Gotham and it was doubtful any outcome would benefit her if it came to that.

* * *

"Baaaaanne," Myra whispered into the stillness of the bedroom late one night after they had both settled down for bed.

She waited several seconds before whispering again into the dark.

"_Baaaaaannne," _she whispered slightly louder.

Still nothing. She decided to try out a new nickname for him.

"_Baaaaaaeee," _she whispered, having a hard time suppressing her laughter. She was incredibly impressed with this new nickname she thought up; she _was _basically saying his name, just without properly finishing it with the "N" sound. It totally changed the dynamic of his name, transforming it from a slightly menacing insinuation into one of a term of endearment all of the 'cool kids' used.

This seemed to incite a reaction.

"Don't call me that," she heard Bane huff into the darkness.

"_BAAAAAAEEEEEE," _Myra whispered again, seemingly ignoring and steamrolling over his request.

"What is it?" he asked aggressively, annoyed.

"I'm hungry_, Bae,_" Myra confessed.

She could hear him shifting in the bed. She strained her eyes and saw he was rubbing at his eyes.

"Then go get some food," he offered her, sounding tired and at his wit's end.

"_BAAAAAEEEEEEEE," _she whispered again, almost a shout this time.

Bane snapped his head towards her, sitting up in the bed and letting out an aggressive huff in her direction.

"Will you cease calling me that? _WHAT IS IT? WHAT?" _he fumed.

"….I'm hungry for some cheese pizza, Bae," Myra pouted, bringing her hand out shyly to touch him against his elbow.

Myra heard Bane give out another loud sigh, his head shifting and turning as he looked around the dark bedroom before turning back towards her.

"It's the middle of the godforsaken night. All establishments will be closed. You'll have to satiate your appetite on something else," Bane practically growled.

"What about the _CONTRACT you signed_, _Bae? _You wouldn't want to break a legal document..." Myra subtly teased.

Bane just glared, still not moving.

"I am unconcerned with your _blasted _contract.." he fumed.

"But…but…._Baeeeeee. _I'm pregnant, _Bae_…_" _she pouted, the soft tips of her fingers tracing and squeezing against his bicep pathetically. She really put on a show, her eyes glistening and her lip sticking out. She even began rubbing her belly for emphasis and theatrics. She didn't care or want to be told that no pizza places were open, particularly since the neutron bomb explosion was set to go off in less than two weeks. Most businesses were closed, especially in the middle of the night. Supplies in the city were also low, particularly for non-necessary extravagances like pizza places, making the request near impossible. Again, she didn't care.

Myra watched as Bane's body stilled, his hands resting in his lap as he hunched forward in a sitting position on the bed. He appeared to simply be thinking. He sat like that for a dozen or so seconds as if mustering up the mental fortitude and energy to tackle the situation Myra tossed into his lap. He eventually let out the biggest agitated sigh Myra had ever heard from him as he started removing the covers from off of his legs and eased himself out of bed with care as if his whole body ached. He finally stood up, moving with precision in the dark to grab a few items before leaving the room.

Myra waited patiently, her eyes roaming around the dark room. She eventually became tired, however, after lying in bed for a half hour without a word from Bane. She eventually fell back to sleep.

She was startled awake, however, to something jabbing her in the arm. She opened her eyes groggily, fumbling her hands around to touch whatever it was that was jabbing her and felt cardboard. Confused, she sat up and saw Bane standing over her with the pizza box which he had used to nudge her awake. She released a big goofy grin, not questioning how he was able to procure a pizza given the current conditions within the city.

Bane simply tossed the box into her lap before he walked around to the other side of bed, sliding back under the covers with a tired wheeze through his mask. Myra sat in the bed eating the pizza directly from the pizza box like a demon. Bane ignored her slopping sounds she made consuming the pizza, which she didn't appear to hold back or attempt to muffle. Her eyes turned towards Bane every so often between chomping down on the slices, her hands reaching out to give him several affectionate strokes that left a greasy cheesy smear behind on his skin.

"_THANKS BAE._ That was close...you almost broke a legal contract...," she whispered loudly.

Bane gave out an annoyed grunt through his mask. He most certainly did _not _get her pizza because of her ridiculous (il)legal contract. It was safe to say he did it for a different reason.

* * *

_**Author: BAAEEE. BUT...PIZZA, BAEEEE. : D **_

_**Also, PLEEAAAASE don't forget to review! I may take a bit of a hiatus from this story for a bit because I feel like I may be spitting out the chapters a bit too fast (except for YOU KAI! -points-); I may have lost a few casual regular reviewers to that (or my story is just simply getting too boring/dumb/they don't like the direction, WHICH IS FINE TOO I SUPPOSE. I'LL JUST GO HIDE UNDER A ROCK.) I have pitiful self-esteem when it comes to my writing, so I get all squirmy when I feel like people aren't as engaged/interested in it as they used to be. I know I shouldn't, but I use feedback/reviews as validation that it's not as garbage-y as my mind is telling me it is. If I don't update soon, it's because I decided to just go scramble under that rock and stay there. **_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Author: YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING. I really appreciated all of the supportive comments and messages. Honestly. It 100% helped me get through my 'rough patch.' I think I was in a funk :/ I want to especially thank mynameistoolong for your AMAZING questions/comments/messages that forced me to question and think more 'deeper' about certain aspects of the story. I'M SO THANKFUL YOU'RE AMAZZZZINNGG. **_

_**And, of course, I'd like to thank DOPAndrea, sunfloewr2527, KyloRen'sgirl213, KAIIII (x2), louisapallot, MaggYme, Siennax3, CrierDetonate, and sunny day for your *LOVELY LOVELY SUPER AMAZING REVIEWS*. I can't express how appreciative and thankful I am that you took the time to comment and review. I. CHERISH. EVERY. WORD. I'M. NOT. JOKING. It literally brightens my day to read a review. IMMEDIATE mood shift. IMMEDIATE writing fuel. **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

Time until explosion: 8 days

Myra was at the kitchen table, idly paging through the baby magazine that had consumed a significant portion of her time recently when she saw Bane walk in. She lifted up the magazine to show him what she was looking at. She pointed to a singular item in the magazine.

"_Look!_ A tactical baby carrier for _men _who want to maintain that 'military look'. This looks like something you'd wear!" she said with enthusiasm, using her finger to repeatedly prod and jab at the image while maintaining a huge grin on her face.

Bane seemed disinterested in the contents she was trying to show him as he steered towards the cupboards to prepare food, not even sparing a glance her way.

Myra's eyes lingered on him and his seeming disinterest, her smile faltering somewhat, but eventually she put the magazine back down on the table to continue paging through it. The magazine had already appeared to be worn and abused; she had taken notes, circled items she wanted, and crossed out things she thought were absurd and nonsense. She put stars over things she 'needed'. It became her bible, since she no longer had access to a computer to search through things on the internet and could no longer simply go outside to window shop due to her computer and outside access privileges being revoked following her Special Forces stint. Myra waited several minutes before she spoke up again, giving Bane some time to shuffle through the cupboards and gather whatever it was he was fishing for.

"You know what I'm excited about? Seeing you change a diaper," Myra confessed, a huge goofy grin spreading across her face as her eyes fleetingly looked up to observe him before she looked back down to focus on the magazine.

Bane continued to either ignore or dismiss her comments. He appeared to be distracted with the task of preparing food, but in actuality he was simmering inside.

He, of course, wasn't going to get a chance to change his child's diaper, or wear a militaristic baby tactical carrier to tote his child around in. To assume that these facts didn't affect him would be a gross misunderstanding of Bane's character. His eyebrows knitted together as he strained to divert his focus and attention on the steaming pot of food in front of him instead of these undesirable internal acknowledgements.

"Your big, strong sausage-finger hands trying to clean up baby poop and put on a diaper…that would be hysterical. _Adorable,_" Myra continued to grin, her focus on the magazine in front of her, seemingly ignoring Bane as he continued to stare down at the food he was preparing.

He did pause during his task, his fists resting on the edge of the counter as he seemed to physically restrain himself from shaking as he took in several solid breaths, closing his eyes as he did so.

_Did she not realize how cruel and tormenting she was being? _

_No. Of course she didn't._

"Do you mind if we change the subject?" Bane asked rather brusquely.

Myra went silent, her mouth falling open as if she were on the verge of replying but simply sucked it back in. Bane turned his head to observe her reaction to his words. He saw that her lips were pursed together with her eyes focused intently downwards on the magazine she was reading in an obvious attempt at appearing unaffected by his comment. She was doing a poor job; she looked like she had been severely scolded, with redness consuming her face. She had never been snapped at like that by Bane, particularly over something as seemingly inconsequential as talking; it certainly left her confused and speechless. It forced her to reflect on what it was she had been saying that perhaps made him appear so angry or what it was she said that was so undesirable to him. The look that consumed her features made him wish he had just kept his mouth shut. Bane eventually cleared his throat, grabbing the plates of food he had just finished preparing.

"Food's done," he said.

Myra wiped her face clear of emotion into one of forced excitement when she saw Bane turn around, hiding the hurt she had suddenly felt. Bane turned towards her and set a plate in front of her, which she immediately started digging into with her head bent down. Bane saw right through her facade, and noted her unusual silence during their meal.

* * *

Bane had noticed immediately that Myra was deeply affected by his request to 'change the topic' regarding babies. Aside from blatantly no longer bringing up the subject - _any _subject - that could directly tie back into discussion of 'babies', he also saw that Myra had simply stopped knitting baby-related items and other small craft items that had recently seemed to consume most of her time. At least, she minimized doing these activities in the open; when she sensed Bane approaching, she quickly shoved whatever it was she was reading or working on away to hide it if it was baby-related as if the mere sight of it would offend him.

While Myra was moderately confused and a little heartbroken about Bane's apparent and sudden disinterest, it didn't dampen her desire to want to follow through with the pregnancy. She had her mind set on it. She had existed in an unopinionated 'limbo' state prior to discussing the matter with Bane, but after discussing it with him and even perhaps being falsely led into thinking he didn't seem to mind the prospect itself, it allowed her to embrace the notion. It allowed her to explore the idea internally which led her into freely falling in love with the idea. She couldn't just willingly suck that love and desire back into herself and reverse her mentality just because she suddenly found out that perhaps she made false assumptions about his perspective on the matter. This led her into questioning and re-evaluating Bane's intentions, trying to decipher if she had it all wrong; he did mention that if she followed through with the pregnancy that she would be taken care of; but were there conditions to that? Did he imply that he would discard her and just throw a pile of cash at her and tell her "Good luck, there you go"? It was a little upsetting to think that this was perhaps a possibility and the caveat to his condition of her pregnancy; she didn't want to be 'dumped' anywhere; she wanted to stay with him.

Yet, it was hard for her to ignore the fact that an actual baby may annoy him more so than the lighthearted comments she had made about baby merchandise. Would he spend less time with her and the child, because he simply didn't like babies or care for children? It would make sense, considering his background and profession; he most certainly didn't seem like an expert on child rearing or even child tolerance, since she doubted very much he was exposed to many children aside from Talia. She didn't want him to dismiss her; she wanted to_ stay_ with him. She wanted to ask him directly, but she had an inkling that confronting him about it would only result in initiating the process of her removal, and she certainly didn't want that, either. So, she settled on silence and deflection.

* * *

Myra was passively meandering through the penthouse later that afternoon after detecting an unusual calm settle throughout the suite. This, to her, indicated Bane had left the penthouse. Which, she noted, was highly unusual considering lately it seemed that she was constantly in close proximity to either Bane or Barsad. So, the sudden privacy felt highly unusual and sudden. Almost deafening.

As she made her way into the living room, she realized Bane hadn't exited the penthouse; he was simply passed out on the couch. She stared at the spectacle, inching closer to stand over him. She worked her lips together as she scratched her mid-section idly, fidgeting her feet and curling her toes against the carpeted rug.

Bane's arm was draped over his eyes as if he were attempting to block out the light emanating down upon him from the ceiling light fixtures above. Considering the slow rise and fall of his chest, and the fact that he didn't seem to acknowledge her presence, she assumed he was just simply passed out from pure exhaustion. She had never seen him idly napping quite like this before. It was both amusing and enduring.

Myra turned to look around the living room for a blanket or something to drape over his body so he didn't look so exposed. She saw one hanging over the back of the armchair near the decorative gas fireplace. She strolled over, being careful to mask her feet against the carpet, and snatched up the throw blanket before making her way back over to him. She feathered the blanket out and slowly draped it over his body. Her eyes were large and she was tight-lipped as she waited for some sort of reaction from him while she draped the blanket, but she was pleased when he didn't stir. Her pleasure was short lived, however, for as soon as she removed her hand from the blanket, his hand darted out and snatched her arm by the wrist. She looked back at his face and saw him staring at her. She stared back, unsure of what she should do or how she should react. She just decided to be patient and let him make the first move.

"What time is it?" he asked tiredly.

Myra had no idea. She had no concept of space or time. In fact, she couldn't even identify which month it was, let alone what day.

"7:00 o'clock," she blurted out, having no idea what time it really was but just coming up with an arbitrary time.

Bane narrowed his eyes at her and then turned his attention to the windows. His eyes roamed over the shadows and the angle at which the sun appeared to be entering the penthouse before he turned back to her to give her a stern look.

"You have no concept of what time it is, do you?" he asked her as if she should feel deep shame for not being able to whip up the time of day immediately on the spot.

She glowered at him, smacking at the hold he had on her wrist.

"It doesn't matter what time it is. Why do you need to know? Are you late for a business meeting? A _hot date?_" Myra teased.

Bane ignored her remarks and simply stretched and angled his neck so that several audible cracks resonated through the air.

"No, but it would be desirable to know how long I was idle..." he said, tiredness seeping back into his voice. Tiredness did not seep into his grip, however, for he maintained a firm hold around her wrist.

Myra took this opportunity to attempt to pull him up and off of the couch by simply walking backwards and digging her heels into the rug, leaning her body backwards. He slid about a half an inch over the upholstered couch, but budged no further. He appeared as if he hadn't even noticed her attempts. Myra tried again, this time bringing her hand around to latch onto the wrist of the hand that was holding hers as she gave one giant tug backwards. Again, nothing.

"Grrrra_uuuuuuh_. Get up, lump. Let's go watch a movie," Myra begged.

Bane remained on the couch for several more seconds before his head slowly turned towards her to analyze her.

"Oh? You wish something of me? It was impossible for me to hear over all of that impulsive _rudeness..." _he quipped, giving her a furrowed-brow glare with his head lazily angled towards her.

Myra stubbornly stared back before she paused. She then took this moment to collect herself and re-evaluate her approach. She stood up straight, took a deep breath, brought her hand in front of her face like she was wiping clean a whiteboard, and approached the situation from a different angle. She let out her breath in a high-pitched 'whoooooooooo' sound before her eyes focused on his. Her lips slowly curled upward into a generous smile while she took her time inching forward before she knelt down right beside his reclined head that was rested on a couch cushion. She had to bend her elbow awkwardly since he still seemed to refuse to let go of her wrist, but she ignored that. Instead, she used her free hand to bring up and playfully stroke and pat the exposed skin over his face and scalp. She tilted her head to the side as if she were daydreaming and performing an activity like picking the petals off of a flower to determine if he loved her truly or truly not.

"_May-chance_ we go watch a movie together, perchance dear darling woo? I do _adore _you holding my small petite hand in your strong, _masculine,_ indestructible hand while we watch movies together. _Pleaaaaaase?" _she pleaded, bringing her head forward to invade his personal space so that she could properly assault his face with obnoxiously wet kisses over his cheek and brow.

Bane knew she was mocking him based in her tone and nonsensical choice of words and sentence structure. She particularly made jabs at the way he spoke by inflecting her words in unusual ways in an attempt to mirror his own accent. She was largely unsuccessful; she just ended up sounding mildly ridiculous. He also knew she was trying to stroke his ego by elaborating on how massive his hands were, which he thought was just outright nonsense. However, he did enjoy the affections she gave him when her lips made contact with his skin even if he did feel like she was intentionally making her kisses unnecessarily slobbery and wet as if she were challenging herself in a contest to coat his skin with a clear sheen of moisture.

Bane waited until she had properly succeeded in the task of blanketing his face with moisture which was indicated by her leaning her head back to stare at him with her nose several inches from the grill of his mask. His breathing wasn't labored; it was just slow and methodical and sounded wispy and mechanical. He lowered his lids over his eyes halfway so he could peer at her as if in laziness.

"We'll work on your delivery later. Do you have a film in mind?" he asked her.

Myra smoothed the palm of her hand over the exposed side of his scalp.

"No, I want to go look and see what movies there are to watch," she said in a whisper, as if she were telling him a deep dark secret.

Bane let out a sigh, raising his eyes to peer at the ceiling for just a brief moment before he finally released the hold he had on her wrist. He eased his body forward with a huge grunt of exertion before twisting his body at the waist to drop his legs on the floor. He finally stood up, stretching his body out by arching his body backwards. He started walking lazily towards the exit of the penthouse, but not before giving her a quick flick of his hand as an indicator for her to get up and follow.

Myra sprang up from her kneeled position, grabbed the throw blanket that had been discarded, and bounded after him. They both exited the penthouse to make their way down the hall to the indoor movie theater room.

Myra was remarkably indecisive about which movie to watch; after approximately five minutes, Bane became agitated.

"Just _pick _one or we're going back..." he started to say but was abruptly cut off by Myra rushing to stand in front of him, placing the tips of her fingers against the grill of his mask.

"Bane," she whispered quickly to silence him, squinting her eyes, looking to the left and to the right of her as if she were trying to spy for any eavesdroppers.

A concerned look overtook Bane's face as he leaned forward, straining his ears to give her his full attention based on the urgency and alarmed expression she had on full display.

"I want...," she started to say in a very quiet whisper, pausing just briefly to peer back over her shoulder as if making sure there was no one listening at her back, before turning back to look at him once more, "..some popcorn," she finished, staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

When Bane heard what it was she had to say, he gave out a very annoyed grunt. He arched his head back away from her in disgust to glare down over the structure of his mask. He huffed once in clear annoyance, using his arms to gently push her away from him. Before Bane could do anything else, however, she started rubbing her stomach like she was trying to summon a genie from a bottle. She continued to maintain eye contact with him, her bottom lip puckering out in a very obvious attempt at playing for his sympathies.

Bane let out one more huff through his mask, his eyes lingering on hers for one brief moment before looking away, and then one final huff blew through his mask that sounded like a growl before he abruptly stomped towards the exit of the movie room. Before he fully exited, he turned to give her a heated warning.

"If you haven't chosen a movie by the time of my return, then there will be _no movie. No popcorn._ I have no patience for your indecisiveness this afternoon," he warned, turning away before he could see the undeniable smirk that started forming on Myra's lips.

By the time Bane made it back, Myra was already folded up into a seat with her legs pretzeled together and the throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was peering at him excitedly as he passed her to drop the bowl of popcorn he had brought with him into her lap. Myra gave him a glare as several of the popped kernels flew out of the bowl making a mess from the recklessness of his toss as the bowl teetered in her lap. She eventually resettled and immediately dove into the popcorn, waiting for him to sit down and settle in the leather theater recliner chair next to hers. The deep sigh he let out was her cue to start the movie. She pressed 'play' on the remote.

The fanfare and scrolling title work for "Star Wars: A New Hope" started playing, blasting the room with trumpets and drums.

"Dear God..." Bane mumbled out through his mask, sounding as if he was at his wit's end as he slumped deeper into his chair as if he were being terribly put-out.

Myra rounded on him, snarling.

"SHHH _QUIET_. DO YOU NOT WANT TO _WATCH _THIS MASTERPIECE?" Myra had to shout over the loudness of the movie audio.

Bane didn't raise his voice to be heard, but just rested his elbow on the arm rest, brought his hand up, and leaned his head to the side against his knuckles.

"...I'm assuming this is that star battle futuristic fantasy film? Regardless...I have no interest whatsoever in watching something so ridiculous and asinine," Bane mumbled, his eyes taking on a furrowed-brow look of disapproval and boredom.

Myra pressed the 'pause' button quickly. She then set her popcorn bowl down before rounding on him.

"You haven't seen _ANY _of them? NONE OF THEM? Oh. My. _GAWWWWWWWD. DID YOU LIVE IN A PIT OR SOMETHING? _Phew. Geesh. Hold on to your butt. And it's not set in the _FUTURE. _I assure you; this movie is _quite_ entertaining. This whole experience just got even _MORE_ exciting for me because there is _ONE _character in this movie that I'm POSITIVE you'll just _LOVVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_," Myra said, her body twisting and writhing over the armrest that separated their leather recliners as she made faces at him.

Bane brought a hand up and pushed at her chest as if he were a lion tamer holding a chair out trying to keep a lion back away from his personal space. He was giving her a disgruntled look due to the amount of unnecessary energy and excitement she was spewing his way as well as the very obvious jab at the fact that yes, he did grow up in a pit. He didn't care for the lightheartedness she used in her tone to call attention to that fact simply to fit her narrative and throw a joke around. Myra eventually settled back into her seat, giving him a very pleased grin. She then continued the movie before Bane had a chance to voice his thoughts or displeasure again.

Bane, for the most part, let the movie 'happen to him.' He did cross his arms over his chest as if he were experiencing a mild tantrum, but eventually relaxed and simply let his eyes glaze over as he observed the spectacle of what was happening before him on the projected screen. It wasn't long, however, before Myra's excitement permeated the air again. After the scene in which Darth Vader boarded and entered Princess Leia's Corellian Corvette ship in an attempt to locate the Death Star plans, Myra paused the movie. She pointed at the screen, and then looked at Bane.

_"YousoundjustlikeDarthVader," _Myra blurted out so quickly Bane barely understood her.

He whipped his head to look at her, narrowing his brows over his eyes as he studied her expression and the meaning behind what it was she said. He then dismissed her comment before turning back to the screen, readjusting his arms over his chest. Myra felt like he was intentionally holding his breath so that she couldn't hear him making a wheezing sound through his mask so that she couldn't validate her remark. She waited 30 seconds, staring at him. Waiting. After 30 seconds and not hearing anything, she decided to press 'play' again and resume the movie.

However, as soon as the movie started, she heard him audibly sigh through his mask; the sigh that emanated was a perfect recreation of Darth Vader's inhalation noises. Myra gasped in excitement, quickly paused the movie, turned bodily towards him and then nearly jumped up out of her seat. She knew that he didn't naturally sound _'exactly'_ like Darth Vader; the only similarities were perhaps the slight mechanical hissing that periodically escaped through his mask. However, this sound she just heard was a _perfect _recreation; to her it meant he was _intentionally doing it. _And for what? Well, the look on Myra's face and the way she hurriedly crawled over the armrest that separated their chairs to settle into his lap like an unexpected cat was answer enough.

She settled to face him, leaning her head back excitedly to observe his face from a better angle. She grabbed his mask with her hands and stared straight up at him. Bane kept his eyes on the screen, not seeming to be bothered or perturbed by her intrusion or the awkwardness of her body crawling all over him like a drunken animal. He didn't even bother to move his hands from the arm rest, though they did get jostled somewhat by one of her knees ramming into his arm as she made the journey over. For the most part, he appeared to act as if she wasn't even there.

"_Do it again_," Myra pleaded excitedly, her eyes frantically searching his face.

Bane didn't pay her any mind, his attention still on the screen. He gave a very slow, seemingly bored and uninterested blink, before Myra heard him exhale through his mask again in a perfect imitation of Vader's mechanical breathing sounds.

Myra gasped, sitting up in his lap so that she was face-to-face to him, forcing his focus away from the screen and onto her. His eyes shifted lazily to her when his view became obstructed, leaning his head back slightly as he gazed at her. His eyes searched her overly-excited face. He must have found her expression to be both odd and amusing, because one of his eyebrows lifted up.

"...do it again," Myra hiss-whispered into his face, giving his head a soft jostle for emphasis with the grip she had on the hardware of his mask that covered his ears.

Bane stared at her for several long seconds, not immediately granting her request. Instead, he brought one of his hands up to curl up behind her to rest at the base of her spine and above her rump, his fingers gently feathering up and down a few inches at the curve of her back. He then sounded out a very clear snicker.

"Does this Darth Vader character _arouse _you?" Bane asked teasingly, his eyes taking on a playful glint.

Myra gasped and then scrunched her face up in clear disgust.

"_NO._ Of _course_ he doesn't! You can't even see his face. He has to wear that stupid mask all the time and he has scars and deformities all over his body…" Myra said, but suddenly trailed off.

The look Bane was giving her was the most unimpressed look of the century.

Myra froze, searching his expression for several seconds before she eventually started cracking at the seams. She had to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing, _bursting, _into his face. A few bursts of air did eventually escape through her mouth and out onto her hand, but for the most part she was able to contain herself. It took all her willpower to calm herself down enough to speak out hurriedly before she dug herself into a hole.

"I mean….I think _your _scars, deformities, and mask are sexy…." Myra said in an obvious attempt at backpedaling.

Bane just stared at her, unamused.

After several more moments of this, Myra couldn't help herself; she started laughing. She tried stopping herself by covering her mouth, but her laughter was simply uncontainable. She eventually tried muffling it by leaning forward and rubbing her face into the side of his while wrapping her arms around his neck. Bane, meanwhile, was actively trying to untangle and negate her actions as if he no longer wanted anything to do with her as if her novelty suddenly wore off. He was pushing at her, trying to unseat her from his lap.

"_NOOOOOOOO I TAKE IT BACK. DARTH VADER IS SO SEXY," _Myra pleaded as she hung on for dear life while he removed her arms from around his neck, stood up, and dropped her with a thump onto the floor.

As soon as she recovered and untangled her limbs from beneath her, she grabbed hold of one of his feet and looked up at him from the floor. She was still laughing, of course, her mouth wide open like a grinning toothy Cheshire cat that knew no better. Bane just stood where he was, tucking his chin in to look down at her on the floor. He observed her splayed out in a writhing frenzy while still attached to his foot with the use of both of her arms. He just gave her an exasperated sigh, making no immediate move at reclaiming his foot. He just stood there and watched as she exhausted herself from her laughing fit. It must have been a solid minute before she finally huffed out a sigh of exhaustion, steadying herself against his leg and peering up at him with a wide full smile.

"Let's keep watching the movie. I _promise_ you'll like it. Darth Vader likes choking people too! And he's _really really strong_, like you are! I'm sure if he were real, you two would get along really well," Myra tried saying with all seriousness, but eventually started giggling again. She was clearly having quite an enjoyable and amusing time. Her face turned red from it all. The fact that Bane found it not even slightly amusing made it all the more amusing to her, of course.

Bane stared down at her, impressed that someone was able to conjure up so much entertainment and amusement for themselves. He waited again for her to laugh it out, which took several more minutes. When he saw that she had settled down, he bent down, disentangled her from his foot, and rolled her over onto her back effortlessly like he was about to roll out a rug. The effortlessness it took to perform the task due to the lack of resistance out of Myra indicated to Bane that she had simply transferred her mobility of actions and thought over to Bane, taking on a limp-doll like state as if she had simply surrendered to him. This wasn't just simple laziness out of Myra, though perhaps it was a facet of it. It was more than that. And Bane understood that.

She adopted this 'state' when she wanted him to take charge so that she didn't have to because she wanted to essentially lighten her mental load so that she could focus on other things; more _pleasant _things, like the way he made her feel as he wordlessly took control of her metaphorical physical and mental steering wheel. It was refreshing and exhilarating to have someone else worry about what to do, where to go, and what to worry about, even for a brief while, especially when it directly pertained to the placement and arrangement of her own body and limbs. _Especially_ when that person was as competent, intelligent, gentle, strong, and willing as Bane was; he appeared to have no trouble navigating or accommodating the need of not only minding his own body but hers as well. It was almost as if he preferred these periodic transferals of responsibility. And to be honest, Myra always inhabited a slight 'state-shift' with part of her internal 'moral responsibility button' slightly pushed towards Bane's direction. It is what kept her from going insane at the moral dilemma of being with someone like _him; _and of _being _in a situation like _this; _in a penthouse suite once owned by one of Gotham's upper elite who was murdered by Bane, in a city under martial law by a warlord with a bomb about to go off. Myra didn't always keep that dial pushed towards Bane, of course; when she slid it back towards her own direction to essentially force herself to re-evaluate and adopt the mental load of it all. That was when stress and doubt occurred. When things like the Special Forces incident happened. When she began doubting herself. She hated that feeling.

Bane always seemed to instantaneously know when Myra's 'state-shifts' happened, even being able to decipher her periodic laziness from this display of willing mental and physical surrender. It made him critically aware of the dutiful importance of the situation, even if these bouts only occurred during playful occasions as if they were playing hot-potato and she passed a fragile egg suddenly into his hands. He consistently acted with more calm, seriousness, and gentleness during these 'state-shifts' of hers, taking care to exude that he certainly understood the enormity of the situation, particularly the blind trust she seemed to have in him.

Bane had been on the verge of giving her a very thorough tickling assault, but cancelled his intentions following 'the state-shift' and instead settled on a more soothing and tender approach. He also fully realized that she was perhaps fully aware of the impending assault and decided to 'play possum', so-to-speak, and quickly adopt this 'state-change' to avoid that assault. It worked.

He leaned down and grabbed both of her arms to bodily lift her up from the floor, her body taking on the consistency of saltwater taffy as she dangled in the air briefly. He turned her around to face the screen before he eased himself back into the leather recliner behind him, bringing Myra with him as he did so to settle comfortably in his lap. He let out a tired sigh as he did so, moving Myra's arms up to bring her hand back so that her palm was curled against the side of his neck against his bare skin. He moved his head to rest his chin against the top of her head for a brief moment, staring at the screen before he realized he needed the remote to resume the movie. With a loud exerted grunt, he leaned over into Myra's chair to grab the remote, and finally pressed 'play' to continue the film.

They both sat in silence for a considerable amount of time, Myra's fingers periodically fidgeting against his skin as she sat there, her head tilted lazily back and to the side against his chest, not seeming to mind the weight of his chin on the top of her head. Her legs dangled leisurely over his, one of her feet minimally bobbing up and down in a show of constrained contentedness. It wasn't long, however, before Myra started squirming as she very clearly reclaimed her metaphorical steering wheel.

"Why is your neck so freaking _thick. _It's '_CHONK_'," she complained up at him, her fingers curling lightly around the circumference of his neck but unable to make much ground due to the size of his neck and the size of her hand.

Bane furrowed his brows together at her unsolicited observation.

"That is an incredibly impolite thing to say," he scolded.

Myra seemed to ignore his remark. She began squeezing and pulling at the skin around his neck, which reminded her of a thinner variant of the external thick blubbery layer of whale fat. After a few moments of this, Bane tilted his head away to shake his head from side to side and attempted to steer her hand away like a horse sweeping its head to clear its face of pesky flies.

"Can you even _be _choked? Or is your neck too thick?" Myra asked in all seriousness, bringing her other hand up behind her to grope blindly for the other side of his neck as she maneuvered her hands around and away from the grill of his brandishing mask gestures.

"How would you appreciate it if I started proclaiming aspects of your body that were '_too thick'_, hmm?" he said in slight tease as he brought a hand up to swat away her pesky gropings.

Myra gasped, appalled. She immediately twisted around in her seat to stare up at him, not caring that she was very close to causing him considerable discomfort based on her shift in weight over his lap.

"_WHAT? _You think there are aspects of my body that are '_TOO THICK'?" _Myra gasped, staring up at him with a fierce wide-eyed look, daring him to elaborate.

Bane gave her an unamused look, apparently not appreciating the double standard.

"That is_ not_ what I said…" he reasoned to her.

"Right; that's the point. It's that it's left '_UNSAID_'," Myra said, sounding disgusted. She began fidgeting and propelling her limbs in an attempt to lift herself up and off of him.

"_Be still," _Bane hissed at her as she narrowly avoided kneeing his groin, grabbing her body with his hands to settle her down.

Myra paused for a moment to simply stare at him. It was only a brief pause, for she started thrashing again with renewed vigor.

Bane let her thrash for a few moments, but eventually gathered her up in his arms and propelled himself forward out of the chair. He plopped himself over her on the ground like a wrestler in a wrestling match, squishing her face-first into the carpet like a spatula pressing a pancake down into a pan. He angled his head to stare down at the side of her face, knowing she was undoubtedly uncomfortable from the considerable weight being applied to her body.

She certainly put on a show; she began sputtering and easing into an overly-dramatized coughing fit, her nose squished into the carpet. She clutched at the carpet like she was trying to hang on for dear life.

"Are you _quite_ finished?" he asked her.

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO," _she squealed out.

"Indeed," he replied simply, deciding to simply wait for her energy to eventually deplete.

She writhed a few more seconds but eventually relaxed, settled, and stilled fully on the floor, rolling her head so her cheek rested on the carpet instead of her nose. Her body went limp like a fish.

Bane was in no hurry, seeming to have no care in the world as he adjusted his weight over her to distribute most of it over her hips, thighs, and legs. He did so by raising his upper body up away from hers like he was riding a surf board, with Myra acting as the unfortunate surf board.

"Hmm, yes. This is quite agreeable," Bane said as he continued to adjust himself over her like he was trying to rub a foot over an uneven but comfortable topography; him being the foot, Myra's lower half being the uneven topography.

"What is agreeable?" Myra asked quickly and with curiosity based on the urgency and elation in her voice, her head straining to the side to try and peer at him behind her.

"Oh, just the thickness of your hips and thighs," Bane teased as he continued to drag himself over her as if he couldn't quite find the perfect spot to settle his weight. That was simply because, to him, every spot was perfect. Every spot was comfortable. It was impossible to decide, leaving him to be at a loss. Her lower half was the perfect 'positive' shape that accepted the 'negative' space of his. He enjoyed the feel of that puzzle-piece like fit on top of the considerable roundness and softness that was natural of Myra.

Myra, however, ground her teeth at his tease, her eyes flashing. She bucked her body like a dolphin jumping over waves, pushing at him to get off of her. He took his time easing himself up and away from her, making it painfully obvious that it wasn't her thrashing or feats of strength that were causing him to get up but instead it was simply his own volition and decision to humor her wishes.

"YOU ARE A _MENACE,_" she screamed once she twisted her body around, quickly rising to her knees and standing up, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Bane stayed seated on the floor, looking up at the finger being pointed in his face. He grinned, easing himself back to sit with his bum firmly planted on the floor and his knees slightly bent and spread. He reached out and gently grabbed at her finger.

"So I've been told," he said with a hint of proud inflection in his voice.

Myra huffed angrily at him, her lips snarled back so he could see her teeth flashing at him. This, of course, only furthered his amusement. He drew her in towards him with the hold he had on her finger as if that hold he had was a rope that he had lassoed around her body. Myra tried resisting and jerking away, and almost got her hand free of his grip, but he reached out with his other hand and simply ensnared her wrist.

He leaned his head back to stare up at her, guiding her to stand in the space between his bent knees. Myra didn't have much choice since the firm grip he had on her wrist was unbreakable, but Bane didn't detect any resistance as she settled to stand before him to gaze down at him, finding the heightened perspective amusing.

He released the hold he had on her wrist and curled his hands fully behind her to settle at the back of her thighs, cupping and digging his fingers into the soft flesh just under her bum before he eventually slid his hands up to settle and grip her by each of her buttock's cheeks, gripping and kneading his fingers like he was trying to roll out some dough. Myra gave a loud sigh like she was being terribly inconvenienced, but brought her hands out and splayed her fingers against the side of his head, curling her fingers against the exposed skin at the side of his scalp. Bane breathed in a deep breath which permeated the air like a shrill ventilator before he leaned forward and buried his head against her abdomen, turning his head to the side so that his exposed eye and cheek had the most profound amount of contact against her stomach. He closed his eyes and let out a large exhale, which sounded like a sudden mechanical rush of waves.

Myra grinned, hugging his head and probing her fingers against his scalp. She traced her fingers along the scar that looked like a boomerang towards the side and back of his scalp, rubbing at it before her fingers moved on to the next scarred imperfection.

"You know, there's one more similarity between you and Darth Vader," Myra observed.

Bane kept his eyes closed, remaining silent and unresponsive for a few seconds as he juggled internally whether he wanted to pursue a response from her considering the subject matter, but eventually his curiosity won out.

"Do share," he mumbled softly.

"Darth Vader was in love with a _QUEEN,_" Myra said proudly, gripping her fingers more firmly around his head.

"Hmm. You certainly are a queen. A queen of _sass," _Bane mumbled out as if he were being victimized.

"You _love it. _Quit acting like that_," _Myra goaded.

Bane gave her buttocks a firm squeeze with both of his hands before he released them to simply wrap his arms around her body to pull and hold her even closer.

"I regrettably do," he said again, the hint of sadness still etched in his tone.

"Oh please. You act like my sass is physically assaulting you," she blurted out.

"Have pity on me," he responded with theatrical sadness, his voice an airy whisper as he leaned his head dramatically back to gaze up at her. His eyes adopted a slight sheen as if he were on the verge of a crying fit.

While Myra most certainly knew he was teasing and putting on theatrics, it was hard for her not to feel moved and want to react to the sadness laced in his tone. She arched her body forward over his head and hugged his head firmly against her stomach like she was cradling a watermelon to her belly. She gave his head a thorough rub as if she was polishing an old but perfectly decent bowling ball.

"Can we watch the next Star Wars movie?" Myra eventually asked with timidness.

Bane was perfectly silent and unresponsive for several moments. Myra wondered whether he had even heard her. However, after several minutes of savoring the feel of her body against his, he eventually released his hold on her and eased himself back away from her to stand up with an exerted grunt.

"Fine," was all he said as he made his way back to his leather recliner chair.

Myra beamed.

* * *

Time until explosion: 6 days

Bane's eyes shot open. He experienced an inexplicably ingrained sense of danger that could only come from years of living in a prison as well as being trained by a highly skilled organization and mercenaries. His eyes searched the dark bedroom, waiting for them to adjust to the darkness. He clenched his hand gently, which was met by the feeling of soft featheriness. He bent his head down and realized one of his hands was tangled in Myra's hair, with her head planted softly but firmly against his chest while the rest of her body arched alongside his with one of her legs draped over both of his. When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw her mouth was agape in slumber with a very faint trail of drool leaking out of her mouth and directly onto his bare chest.

He began to gently disentangle her body from his, attempting to do so without waking her up. He grabbed the pillow that was rested behind his head and used it as a substitute for him. He pushed it firmly against her after he eased away, and saw her quickly grab onto it before eventually resting her cheek onto it too, making brief smacking noises with her lips before the trail of drool eventually resumed.

He stood up full out of the bed and simply stood there, turning his head very subtly at different angles to capture any unusual noises coming from within the penthouse.

There it was.

He turned his head towards the hallway, sensing more than hearing the undetectable sound of a foot easing over floor. The shift in the shadows coming from the hallway were more of an indicator to Bane that someone was in the hall more so than the noise, which was almost imperceptible.

Bane, despite being a massive fellow and generally incapable of being silent due to his mass, stealthed towards the door that led to the hallway without making any noise himself. One of the first things Bane learned while being inducted into the League of Shadows was stealth and invisibility of self and body; it was harder and more straining for him due to his mass. He had to mentally and physically mind all of his muscles, but it certainly wasn't impossible.

He waited just off the inside of the entrance to the bedroom for the intruder to make his way into the bedroom before he made his move. Just as the intruder was passing the threshold of the doorway, Bane snapped his hand out to immediately cover the intruder's mouth to prevent them from making any noise so as not to disturb and frighten Myra in bed. His other hand, of course, wrapped around the man's neck. It took all but two seconds to both silence and permanently disable him.

He dragged the body out into the hall, being careful not to make any noise. His eyes darted up just as he was exiting the bedroom to see if Myra woke up, but saw that she was undisturbed in bed. He dragged the body to the living room where he proceeded to turn on the lamp. He looked down at the intruder, not immediately recognizing the face, nor did he expect to. He bent down to rummage around in his pockets, finding the usual arsenal of tools indicating the intruder had every intention of disabling Bane through the use of a bull-size tranquilizer shot. He saw that he had enough ammunition to take down at least a dozen individuals; he suspected they were going to shoot Myra, as well, and hopefully steal her away before Bane woke up. Bane gave out a very disagreeable and annoyed sigh.

He stood back up before he dragged the body towards the entrance of the penthouse. He deposited the body just outside of the doors unceremoniously, not giving the man a second glance before he made his way back inside. He tested the entrance, noticing that the door perhaps was pick locked. He was more curious now as to how the individual actually got inside the building, considering his other security measures. He knew it wasn't impossible, but would most definitely take some level of effort that no casual riff-raff would bother with.

Bane made his way back to the bedroom, grabbing his phone from his bedside table to text Barsad to come and dispose of the body. As he was doing this, he felt a hand touch his elbow. It startled him just briefly, but looked down and realized it was a sleepy Myra reaching out for him.

"Where did you go? I woke up and you were gone….." she softly pouted, her eyes squinting and refusing to open fully.

Bane took the hand that was stretching out towards him gently into his before putting his phone down onto the bedside table.

"Shhh, I'm back. I went to make sure we had enough pancake mix," Bane whispered to her in a smooth nonsensical lie.

Myra seemed to find that explanation adequate, for she lowered her head back down into the pillow. However, the mention of food captured her interest and attention.

"You're making pancakes tomorrow?" she whispered out excitedly.

"Would you like me to?" he whispered back.

"Yes," she confessed.

"Then I will," he responded as if making an official statement to a grand audience that needed convincing through the use of assertiveness and a strong tone which Bane graciously delivered.

He eased back into bed, looking down at Myra as he did so. He moved the pillow that had served as his temporary body surrogate. Myra immediately clutched onto him like a Venus flytrap latching onto its prey. She relocated her leg to drape over his legs while repositioning her cheek directly over his chest, half rolling onto his body. Her fingers played and danced over his bare chest like a five-legged prancing pony for several moments before they eventually traveled up to blindly fumble and explore his face like a blind person searching in the dark. Bane closed his eyes passively to avoid getting her fingerprints on his eyeballs and she explored his face and mask in the dark. They eventually settled down by sliding back down over his chest to softly cup one of his muscular breasts.

Bane positioned a hand at the back of her head with his fingers intertwined in her hair and repositioned his mask so the outflow of air blew softly onto her forehead, giving her very gentle encouraging and soothing strokes as a wordless means of encouraging her to go back to sleep. Her thoughts were still filled with pancakes, however.

"Your boob feels like a nice warm pancake," Myra whispered out suddenly as she softly cupped it in her hand, moving her hand so that she gave equal attention to both of his chiseled breasts.

"Hmm, is that so?" Bane answered in almost a bored whisper.

"Yes. Can you make the pancakes extra fluffy and not hard and muscle-y like your boobs? Can you wake me up too? I want to be there when you make them," she whispered out.

"We'll see. Go to _sleep_," he whispered into her forehead, massaging his fingers over her scalp.

She obliged; she was passed out just a few minutes later, which Bane could detect from the very abrupt audible snort-sniff noise she made as she transitioned from the waking world to the dreaming sort.

Bane did not go back to sleep. He kept his eyes open passively, though he was anything but passive. He searched the ceiling for reasons, answers, and conclusions he knew he wasn't going to get; conclusions he wasn't going to _like. _

Bane also took in the way Myra felt as she lie there against his body. He took in the small nuances of it all, like the small feeling of added weight where her limbs draped over his, or the skin-to-skin contact of her cheek against his chest. For he knew, deep down, that this was going to be the last night they were going to be able to sleep comfortably and peacefully together like this.

He had to get her out of Gotham.

These attempts at spiriting Myra away were going to get increasingly more persistent, and perhaps more dangerous, as time went on. He couldn't risk losing her to his selfish need to keep her with him.

This realization made him angry. Stressed. Agitated. _Infuriated. _

And not just the fact that someone - undoubtedly Talia - was attempting to remove Myra from his presence. It was that combined with the fact that in a few days, he was going to be dead and he was never going to meet his own child; his own _family. _He didn't have family. The only family Bane had ever known was his mother, who died when he was very young. He had grown up wishing and hoping to see extensions of himself, '_family'_; a concept that was almost a fleeting allusion he had from childhood, until he eventually realized he never would. When Talia had proposed her plan on producing a successor, it reinvigorated hope that he may still yet have a chance at seeing extensions of himself; meeting someone that was of his blood, of his body. However, when that didn't work out, he snuffed out all desire and hope at the prospect knowing perfectly well that his lifestyle didn't cater towards that ideal and it would lead to an unhealthy mindset.

And then Myra came along. An unexpected, sweet, tender, _comforting_ surprise.

When he saw Myra, all he could think of was the fact that while yes, he was finally going to have an extension of himself - 'a family', of him, _of his blood_\- he wasn't going to ever meet them; to fulfill the longing he felt as a child, of holding and absorbing someone that was rightfully considered 'his family'. He wasn't going to be able to interact with the individual that was undeniably half 'him'. Someone that perhaps would understand him on a level far better than anyone else in the world because they _were _genetically half 'him'; would they have his intellect? His values? His concerns? His passion? His personality? He wasn't going to ever be able to find out; and that out right crushed him.

The mystery of it all drove him angry and frustrated. Ornery. Angry at those involved; angry at Talia for blackmailing him into loyalty for fear of Myra's and the child's life. Angrier at Batman for being the cause of this whole revenge charade. Even angry at Myra for nourishing and encouraging the love that he felt for her which blossomed into this maddening and heart-wrenching dilemma. His anger wasn't containable; it started seeping out. No one was safe from the resentment he carried around on his shoulders that not even he, as strong as he was, could muster the strength to hold up. He simply could no longer control himself.

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 5 days

When Myra woke up that morning, she could detect Bane was in a sour mood. A 'foul' mood would be a more apt description. Aside from the fact that he looked relatively drained and exhausted, he seemed tense and irritable. His replies to her were short and abrasive, and he seemed generally preoccupied internally as if he were distracted and focused on something else. When asked about his well-being, his reply was snappy and borderline aggressive. So, Myra simply chose not to continue poking the bear with a stick by pressing the matter and instead retreated to the living room to preoccupy her time with reading and lounging away from him while he sorted himself out. She knew Bane's workload had exponentially increased due to the impending detonation of the bomb; he was probably juggling with a slew of tasks and handling management of both people and resources, which would undoubtedly be both taxing and stressful. She did not begrudge him for his rare display of short temperedness.

After the morning had slowly transitioned into the afternoon hours with Myra successfully giving Bane a wide berth, Bane eventually marched into the living room where Myra was lounging in an armchair. She looked up from the book she was reading when she saw him stop in front of her with purpose.

"Get up. We're going on a trip," was all he said to her before turning around.

Bane was already dressed for outside; he had his large shearling coat on as if he were ready to face the bitter cold outside.

Myra's eyes lit up as she practically flew from the chair to stand up excitedly. It had been _so long _since she had been outside, let alone outside the penthouse. In her excitement she threw the book that she had been reading on the couch as she bounced lightly on the tips of her toes.

"_Really? _Where are we going? A trip? What kind of trip? A road trip or a '_real'_ trip?" she asked with unrestrained excitement, hovering around him like a gravitating fly trying to find the perfect spot to land.

Bane for the most part ignored her, not even bothering to look down at her; his focus was towards the doors. He did stop, however, and gave out an aggravated huff through his mask.

"Don't dawdle. Be quick and put some appropriate clothes on. I'll give you two minutes," he told her in slight irritation.

Without further encouragement, Myra ran to the bedroom to quickly change into some appropriate clothes, which was simply a pair of jeans, a bra (which she hadn't worn in a while), and a t-shirt. She had difficulty finding her coat since she hadn't been outside in such a long time. As she flew around the penthouse searching for it, she made a stressed high-pitched prolonged '_AHHHH_" sound as if she foresaw impending doom if she was unable to find that coat before the arbitrary 2-minute mark that Bane gave here. She eventually settled on a coat that perhaps belonged to John Daggett, disregarding the fact that it was too big for her.

Bane made no indication as to whether she took longer than 2 minutes. He simply headed for the exit and opened the door for her to proceed outside. She followed and exited obligingly.

They made their way down the elevator and through the front entrance of the penthouse. Myra practically hopped with excitement, her step light with a huge massive grin plastered on her face. The cold air from outside, however, slapped her unexpectedly in the face causing her to take in a sharp constricted breath and restrict her physical display of excitedness. When they made it a handful of feet away from the entrance of the building, a car veered from an ally and stopped in front of the penthouse. Bane headed towards it with Myra followed closely at his heels.

Myra observed that Barsad sat in the driver's seat, and several of Bane's men hopped out of the back seat and passenger side to station themselves just outside of the vehicle holding heavy-looking automatic rifles. They appeared to be actively scanning their surroundings as if they were anticipating a disturbance at any moment.

"Where are we going?" Myra asked curiously as they approached the car. Her eyes roamed over the vehicle, then to Barsad and then to the men taking up post outside of the vehicle.

"_You _are being escorted out of the city," Bane said simply.

Myra halted in her steps immediately, unease rising in her chest. She turned her eyes to him in startlement and shock.

"What?" she asked sharply confused.

Bane had taken several more steps towards the vehicle before he eventually slowed down to stop, his focus unwavering from the awaiting vehicle in front of him as if he couldn't stomach the idea of turning around to look at the predictable look of heartbreak on her face. He let out a loud tired sigh escape through his mask, which materialized as a white puff of cloud that curled upward into the air before vanishing. He then eventually did muster the energy to turn to look at her. He did not look pleased.

"It's no longer safe for you here. I'm having you relocated elsewhere," he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. He took care to enunciate every syllable in his delivery as if she were daft and incapable of understanding otherwise. Bane did not desire having to explain himself there outside, unprotected, since every second they stood outside meant one more second that Myra was unnecessarily exposed to the outside world. It was one more second that they could be unexpectedly met with aggression or assault. It was also one more second that Myra could get spirited away.

"Are you coming?" she asked skeptically, her eyes narrowing.

Bane gave out a loud aggravated sigh, the puff of smoke that emitted through his mask larger than the previous one.

"No, I'm staying _here_," he said simply, anger starting to rise in his voice. He reciprocated her stare by narrowing his own eyes at her.

Myra eyed him briefly and worked her lips together before she crossed her arms over her chest in display of stubbornness.

"Well, then I'm not going either," she replied earnestly. To emphasize her point, she took several steps backward as if she had every intention of simply re-entering the penthouse building by walking backwards, blindly.

Bane was not amused or entertained. He clenched his fists until his knuckles blossomed with white strained skin. He turned his head to the side idly to observe a few of his men looking away awkwardly at the uncomfortableness of the situation, appearing as if they were instead purely focusing on every visual angle except the angle in which Myra and Bane inhabited.

Barsad seemed to ease back into his seat in an almost lazy bored manner before he too looked away out of his side window of the car as if he were able to anticipate what was about to happen and didn't need the visual details.

Bane stood there trying to focus on the slow intake and outtake of breath through his mask in an attempt at self-calm. It wasn't working. He eventually turned his head slowly back towards Myra, anger rising in his chest. Like a dam bursting that was no longer able to hold back the force of water, Bane charged at her with intent in his eyes.

As soon as Myra saw Bane approaching her with that look in his eye, she started scuttling backwards hurriedly away from him. When he was on her and had a firm hold of her arm, she squatted her weight down to push herself backwards against the force of Bane's hold like an infant being dragged out of a candy store against their will.

"_NO_!" she screamed, using her free hand to push and pry at the vice grip he had on her forearm.

Bane ignored her protests and instead immediately started dragging her towards the awaiting vehicle. She tried to plant her feet firmly on the ground to prevent or deter him from physically pulling her, but simply ended up with her feet sliding on the ground like she was skiing on water, her weight and strength inconsequential to Bane's.

Her feet periodically caught on an uneven patch of cement, causing her to stumble to the side awkwardly, though she didn't fall because Bane was keeping a solid hold on her arm and a consistent pace. He appeared to ignore her save for the grip he maintained on her arm, his focus entirely on the vehicle, pointedly disregarding her writhing, shouting, and dramatic display.

"NOOO! _NOOO!" _she screamed as if she were being murdered, her struggle becoming more amplified and vigorous as they neared the vehicle.

Once next to the vehicle, Bane circled around her and ensnared her by the waist, picking her up effortlessly off her feet in an apparent attempt to bodily shove her into the vehicle. Myra responded by twisting her body furiously, bringing up her legs to plant the soles of her feet on either side of the entrance to the vehicle, locking her legs, and sticking her hands out to grab hold of the passenger door to block herself from being forced into the vehicle. She used all of the strength in her legs to prevent herself from being squeezed into the vehicle through the door like an unfortunate sardine into a tin can.

Myra's efforts were for the most part successful, for after attempting to shove her into the vehicle without causing her serious injury for several moments to no avail, Bane released the hold he had around her waist and dropped her to the ground. He released a very loud resonating grunt through his mask that clearly expressed his displeasure, agitation, and mild exhaustion from the ordeal. He was obviously not thrilled with her theatrical display.

Bane's men continued to keep their attention and eyes averted at the increasingly uncomfortable and awkward situation they were exposed to. They were caught in an uncomfortable limbo space of not being sure whether they should help or pretend they weren't seeing the troublesome and very personal spectacle. Considering the amount of touching and wrangling of Myra it would require on their part to assist Bane, they chose to ignore it, opting for the much safer option of feigning obliviousness. It wasn't the accidental blow or punch from Myra they feared; it was the fear of unintentionally hurting Myra, which Bane would predictably be unforgiving.

Barsad had a look of surprise plastered on his face as he angled his head just slightly to observe the interaction between Myra and Bane. He found Bane's decision to not inform Myra of his intentions of removing her from the city startling, remarkable, and wholly unexpected. It almost appeared as if Bane hadn't fully processed or anticipated this plan of his fully; which was _very _uncharacteristic of Bane who always acted with extreme proficiency as it pertained to tactics and planning. This led Barsad into the uncomfortable conclusion that this was more than just Bane making a poor judgement call; it indicated Bane was internally fumbling and cracking at the seams. That was an incredibly unsettling thought considering Bane's hierarchy and leadership position in a very dangerous scheme that was about to unfold in just a handful of days.

Perhaps Bane's stress levels piqued and became too much to bear to the point that it was clouding his judgement. It was incredibly disconcerting to witness, despite the fact that Bane still appeared to have himself physically under control. At least Barsad assumed he did. When Barsad's eyes shifted to look at Bane's fists, he realized how wrong his assumption was.

When Myra was settled back onto the ground, she straightened herself up and eased away from the vehicle. She let out an annoyed and exhausted sigh through her breath before her eyes eventually angled back to look at Bane coyly. What she saw both startled and upset her.

Myra could see Bane's fist shaking as if he were physically holding himself back. She stared for several seconds at his fists, observing that they looked as if they were attached to vibrating motors based on the intensity. Her eyebrows shot up her forehead in alarm, witnessing the effort he seemed to be undergoing at this task of perceived self-control; she realized he wanted nothing more than to reach out and smack her. She knew the medium he was most comfortable using to express himself was with violence. She was startled to realize that he, perhaps, wanted to express himself nonverbally to her with his signature and very violent alternative means, perhaps thinking he would aptly get his point across to her if he did so. _He wants to hit me? _

She stared at his shaking and clenched fists for several long moments. Shock, hurt, and confusion consumed her face before she slowly lifted her startled eyes to his, unable to speak despite the fact that her mouth hung slightly open as if she were on the verge of saying something but simply couldn't muster up the energy or courage to do so.

Bane was giving her an incredibly unpleasant glare. It gave her chills. She didn't back up or retreat, but simply watched him, waiting to see what he would do. She was frozen. Fixed to the ground. She knew if he wasn't able to control himself and if he did decide to hit her, that the dynamic of their relationship would change permanently. She knew if it was one smack here, then when was the next time he was going to do it again? And then when would it become more frequent? When would it become stronger? _Lethal? _She knew she couldn't live with that constant fear settling over her like a black cloud. _Even for him. _

Before she was confused, hurt, and perhaps slightly embarrassed after reflecting on her dramatic and childish performance. Now she started to get angry. _Infuriated._ Angry that he was contemplating the prospect of throwing what they had away just to physically punish her. Simply because she didn't want to leave him.

After all they have been through, suffered and sacrificed together, to get to this point, right now. _Three officers died because of me…_Contemplating it enough to the point of physical strain permeating his body, impossible to miss or ignore. He must know what it would imply if he did decide to lash out and hit her; he was no fool. Far from it. Yet here he was, barely able to restrain himself at his failed attempt to unceremoniously throw her into a vehicle without any clear explanation of whether this was a permanent re-homing on her part or when she was going to see him again, as if he were thoroughly done with her and she didn't warrant the energy for an explanation and he was simply discarding a bag of trash into a garbage can.

Then realization sunk in. This was it. He was kicking her out. He was abandoning her; disposing of her. Removing her from his life. Why? Because she was no longer useful? She bored him? No. _Because she was pregnant._ That would explain his sudden detached mood and obvious disinterest in any and all matters as it pertained to babies.

Her eyes slowly took on the familiar glint that Bane had assumed he would never see again in her eyes. _Monster. Monster. MONSTER. _

Bane immediately detected the shift in her. He also saw anger exuding from her body like a wave of heat. This did nothing but encourage even more anger in him.

"_Oh_? I can sense anger rising in you; pray tell, what justifies _your _anger?" Bane said threateningly, mockingly, raising a hand to point and jab towards her middle with his large finger.

Myra didn't respond to his mockery, instead letting her own fists clench and her teeth to grind. _To 'brux'. _She shouldn't be here. She had to get away. She _needed _to get away. She glared at him with bared teeth before slowly turning away from him and to focus on the entrance of the vehicle. She then made a move to climb into the car.

Bane snatched out and grabbed her upper arm aggressively to stop her, whipping her around to face him. Myra felt like her arm was nearly on the verge of being twisted off and out of her arm socket. She kept her eyes averted on the ground, not caring to look up at him.

"_Oh no_. I'm not done with you yet, I fear," Bane said with a sinister tone, his head leaning forward to get closer to hers.

Myra's eyebrows were furrowed as she eased her head back away from the intrusive presence of his face and mask in hers, feeling he had lost the privilege of invading her personal space.

"Well…. get _ON_ with it then so I can just _LEAVE,_" Myra screamed into his face in a brazen and passionate display. _Monster. Monster. MONSTER._

Her eyes dropped down to his free hand with the balled-up fist, the vibration of his anger still apparent, ready to lash out at her any moment like a cobra ready to strike.

Bane eyed her coldly, following the path of her eyes to his clenched fist before bringing his gaze back up to hers slowly. He let his eyes roam over her face before the hand that held her upper arm squeezed tighter. Myra winced at the pressure, and pulled her lips back to bare her teeth wider at him. Bane knew the insinuation in her voice indicated she didn't mean to just leave this place or this city; she meant she wanted to leave _him. _

"And where do you plan on running off to, hmm? Your family is dead, you have no relatives. You have no job. You have no home. And, ah yes, no one who cares for you. Your city is in chaos. Enlighten me. I'm curious. Where do you intend on running off to?" Bane said with sarcasm and menace thick in his voice.

Myra looked up to stare at him in shock. She felt like she was slapped unceremoniously in the face. Her eyes had been hard and steely before, but her face quickly distorted. _You weren't supposed to hurt me anymore. Didn't you promise that? _Now, her eyes glazed over and transitioned into one of absolute sadness at being so eloquently presented with her current prospects in life. She suddenly felt extremely misled and foolish at her misguided appraisal of Bane as a man; as a partner. _I thought you were my home. Don't you care for me? _Myra immediately realized how ridiculous and naïve that notion was as she looked him over. All of the realities of her situation flooded her conscious, forcing her to face the truth of it all. He was a mercenary. A killer. A terrorist of Gotham. _Monster. Monster. MONSTER. _

No one had ever said anything so cruel and brutal to her in her life. Like she was garbage, undeserving of thought, respect, or consideration. Like her worth was solely determined on those attributes, which she very clearly lacked. She held his gaze until the moisture that coated her eyes made him look like he was an obscure mosaic glass window that she couldn't quite make out. She turned her head away sharply, letting her chin drop, unable to speak or respond. Unable to hold onto the anger she had been feeling and instead suddenly feeling very sad, hopeless and utterly abandoned.

Bane took Myra's sudden silence as a cue to continue down his path of malice, his emotions fueling him and making it impossible to restrain himself. He wanted nothing more than to drill into her his displeasure at the situation; the culmination of his anxiety and stressors making it impossible to filter himself. He went into autopilot. He unleashed himself to act in a manner that seemed to come so naturally that always seemed to pivot towards one goal; destruction and pain.

"No one _\- no one_\- not friends, not family, came forward to ask for your release when you were a hostage. _Not. One. Person_. Except your employer; the same employer who sold you out to us in the first place. The same employer who identified you for us to take as a hostage. He did so, even though he had _no idea_ what we would actually do with you once we had you. He could have cared less whether we beat you. Abused you. Tortured you. _Raped _you. In fact, I'm sure he would have enjoyed an update regarding your wellbeing that involved something interesting of that nature," Bane said, sounding pleased with himself with insinuation thick in his voice

Even Barsad was shocked at the words Bane directed towards Myra, his face half turned towards the pair with eyes uncharacteristically large, focused, and concerned. Barsad knew Myra was no match to Bane when it came to both verbal and physical altercations. Bane was a master of the craft. He made it an art form. Myra, on the other hand, had no chance. She was a mouse confronted by a lion. She was horribly, painfully outmatched. It was a deeply disturbing spectacle to witness.

Barsad watched as Myra took several very slow steps back away from Bane before the grip he had on her arm impeded her movements any further. Her free hand grabbed at the shirt material covering her stomach and twisted it as if she were trying to prevent her insides from spilling out. Her eyes shifted from left to right as if she were trying to locate a safe space to retreat to but being woefully unsuccessful. Barsad then saw as she began emotionally retreating into herself like quicksand after she realized how cornered and pinned she was. Her eyes focused determinedly on the ground as she began making the internal mental journey to the safe space where no one could hurt her further.

Barsad quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the vehicle, hurrying around the car with the intent of helping navigate Myra into the vehicle and get her away from the situation before Bane brutally decimated her into the ground either verbally or physically. Barsad didn't ponder long about whether Bane would approve of his intentions; no one deserved the kind of abuse that Bane directed towards her. And for what? For wanting to stay with him? For caring for him? For _loving him?_

Barsad would have given anything to see and be with his wife these last few days before the neutron bomb went off. If he got to be with her these last few days, he couldn't possibly fathom getting upset or angry at her for any slight she may make against him. He would savor and cherish every last minute, every last _second_ he shared with her, knowing his time was coming to an end and he wouldn't want to taint the last interactions he had with the woman he loved with anger and pettiness.

But here was Bane. With a woman that had by all accounts truly and completely _loved _him, who got to be with him and comfort him these last few days of his life on earth. Yet, despite that, here he was; treating her like_ this_. Bane was blatantly reckless and selfish with that privilege. It infuriated Barsad more than he cared to acknowledge.

As Barsad rounded the vehicle and reached forward to grab hold of Myra's arm, Bane threw a hand up against Barsad's chest and bodily shoved him back against the vehicle with an audible snarl. Bane leaned his body forward towards Barsad, bending his arm so that it was the point of his elbow that dug directly into Barsad's sternum.

"_DON'T,_" he barked directly into Barsad's face, his eyes wild and furious, not caring for the fact that Barsad was making attempts at intervening and _challenging _his motives by trying to take control of the situation away from him.

Myra was tugged and jostled abruptly like a rag doll from the hold Bane had on her arm as he briefly pushed and shoved at Barsad, refusing to let her go, forcing her to get tugged in that same direction too.

Barsad reached up and grabbed hold of Bane's arm that was pressed against his collarbone, feeling the fiberglass exterior of the vehicle behind him groan and flex inwards due to the force Bane was exerting on him. He then gave Bane an uncharacteristically angry glare. It was subtle; it was a simple downturn of his brows with his lip slightly upturned, but considering the usual emotional range that frequented Barsad's face, he was practically reeling in disgust.

Bane returned Barsad's glare for several very long and tense seconds before Barsad eventually broke eye contact and turned his attention off and away from Bane. Bane let out a satisfied grunt through his mask, easing his body back and away from Barsad's. Bane then finally stopped to take another deep breath as he internalized the situation he was in.

Bane knew where his anger and frustration was coming from. Anxiety. Stress. The inescapable and miserable situation he was in. Things he simply couldn't run away from or defeat with pure muscle.

He also found he was inexplicably upset at Myra; upset at her for not simply doing as she was told. For making such a scene out in the open, in public, in front of his men. However, he was most upset at her for putting him a very unique, unexpected, and entirely unplanned situation; the situation caring for someone so completely and unabashedly. He felt his heart twist at the reality of it, slowly turning to look at her.

She looked absolutely miserable. Like a dog with her tail between her legs cowering in a corner. _Fool. Fool. FOOL. _

All it took was a few moments of lapsed judgement on his part, and then suddenly those closest to him looked like they would prefer to be on a different planet than the one he occupied. He didn't blame them. He wanted to be on a different planet away from himself too.

Bane eased himself away from Barsad and turned towards Myra. Myra's eyebrows knitted together after she sensed he was perhaps done with his tirade, her focus unwavering from the ground. She then started gulping as if she were unable to catch her breath. Bane realized she was trying to speak but her nerves were simply preventing her from doing so. After several fumbling attempts and false starts at forming words, she eventually was able to whisper out what it was she wanted to say.

"_I'm sorry. _I want to go now…." Myra whispered softly, her attention slowly shifting to the entrance of the vehicle.

Bane knew her apology wasn't meant for him; she was apologizing to herself, regretting very much for putting herself in this situation with _him_, seeing him right here - _being _with him right here, right now, and that she would very much like to be anywhere else on earth. Away from him.

He immediately eased and softened the hold he had on her upper arm after realizing he made a brutal mistake in causing her such obvious distress. He realized how absurdly and unforgivably reckless he was by allowing his words and actions to get away from him.

As Myra felt the hold on her arm loosen, she yanked it from his grip suddenly, shocking Bane by the swiftness in which she did so. With her arm reclaimed, she took another step away from Bane to reclaim her personal space, keeping her chin pointed down, her eyes averted, and her hands clenched together at the front of her chest like a wounded animal trying to conceal an injury. Her expression slowly started taking on an emotionless state as she continued to make that unique journey back to the pit of her mind.

Bane was quick; he knew he had to be. He reached out towards Myra, seeing her retreat and curl into her mind like a shriveled, burning leaf. He grabbed hold of her head firmly with slightly more aggression than he intended, giving her a solid shake to get her attention and focus. She was too stunned or frightened by his actions to react.

"_Don't you do it,_" he warned her, bending his head down to stare into her eyes.

He forcibly angled her head to try and get her wandering eyes to return his fierce gaze. He was desperate for her not to hide away inside her mind. He wasn't sure when she would re-emerge. He didn't want to think about the fact that it would very likely be well after he was dead.

Myra let out a quiet yet shrill long-winded wail, bringing her hands up to try and pry his hands away from her head. She started clenching and grinding her teeth at the uncomfortableness of the situation.

"_Please don't…_" he whispered to her in a lower, calmer voice. A vulnerable voice. A voice full of shame and regret. A voice full of love and heartache.

Bane was beyond furious with himself, internally raging, despite the calm he forced himself to exude. He knew he had little control over his actions when he reached a certain threshold in anxiety, anger, and stress. Unfortunately he had been experiencing all three; it was a perfect storm. A hurricane disaster that arguably left a wake of irreparable damage and destruction.

While he had managed to keep himself at bay in terms of lashing out on Myra physically with his fists this instance, that same energy and anger that was fueling the vibration in his fists was inadvertently funneled into saying cruel and nasty things to her instead. Things that his mind subconsciously knew would create grief and pain that rivaled being punished physically since it had been inexplicably denied that which it would have preferred to do based on his established nature. It was like he was at war with his own body; he was simply a passenger along for the ride, having to make allowances and sacrifices in order to prevent the beast from simply taking control of the whole system. He was a steaming kettle; the hot air had to come out somewhere, else he simply explode.

Bane took several deep breaths to calm himself down further and to still his body from shaking, forcing himself to think and respond rationally. While he knew that he should simply let her leave, for her own safety since that had been the original intent, he couldn't bring himself to let this be one of the last interactions he had with Myra Bell before his plans with Gotham came to fruition. He knew it was selfish to feel this way, but he didn't give a damn.

He inched closer towards Myra who reacted by arching her body away, clearly not wanting to be touched or approached further by him. He stopped his advances for one moment while he stared at her.

He waited several solid moments before he proceeded forward again with one giant determined stride to close the gap between them. He ensnared an extremely dismayed and agitated Myra into his arms, who immediately began struggling, thrashing, and pushing at his chest. She began screaming, clearly upset. Clearly distraught. She had transitioned from the emotionless state into one fueled by the anger and frustration she must be feeling. She couldn't hold onto that anger for long for it was apparent her anger quickly transitioned into sadness and pain, her eyes glazing over and sobs taking control of her body in loud angry spasms that shook her whole core.

Bane moved his body over her to eclipse her like the sun, arching forward to wrap both of his massive arms around her in a very secure and tight hold. Myra continued to fight and squirm against him, but his strength and positioning of his arms made it impossible to do anything other than pathetically wiggle. She eventually stopped twisting and fighting against his hold, her loud and exhausted breathing an indicator that she was simply sapped of energy.

After feeling that her body had calmed, he leaned his head down so that the grill of his mask rested right against her cheek. The mechanical breathing of his mask was amplified against her ear ten-fold as he did this, causing her to try and recoil away. She was no match for Bane's strength, however, who continued to hold her in his arms as he kept his mask firmly planted against her skin while one of his hands came up to rest behind her head, forcing her head still so she didn't injure herself. Bane knew he agitated a deep emotional nerve within Myra from his cruel words. He regretted them dearly. He waited a solid minute before he spoke.

"_My RaRa Bean,_" he eased out softly into her ear, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

Myra's body suddenly stilled at the unexpected sound of that moniker. His voice was so quiet that if she were any further away, she knew she would have missed it. While Bane certainly didn't sound or look anything like her father, it still affected her deeply to hear someone whisper that name into her ear in an attempt at cajoling her like her father used to do before he died. She had been conditioned to simply relax when she heard that name being whispered to her. It was impossible to fight against that sort of natural conditioning that happened during childhood. Her body was already easing up and relaxing before she even had a moment to fully process what was happening. She blinked slowly, nostalgia threatening to weaken her knees.

Bane took notice of the shift in her body. He readjusted her to pull her in closer in a more comfortable embrace as he wrapped one of his arms firmly around her shoulder while the other one eased back so that he could place his hand against the back of her head. He gently threaded his fingers into her hair as he raised his head up and peered around. His expression shifted into a severe look as he pointedly looked towards his men, challenging and daring them to judge the spectacle. No one was looking their way; his men very pointedly had their focus aimed in the opposite direction.

Blinking several times, Bane brought his attention back to Myra.

"Know that I didn't make this decision lightly and would certainly prefer you with me. However, it's no longer safe here...," Bane soft softly, almost inaudibly.

"If anything were to happen to you…." he continued, his voice so soft and quiet, with small hitches catching certain syllables in his words. He didn't finish his sentence. He quickly clenched his fingers into her hair as if he were internalizing the outcome of that sentence.

Myra's eyes softened at the implications of his confession. Bane stroked her head gently. He started swaying his body slowly, lulling her with the amplified sounds of his breathing mixed with the slow and rhythmic sway he was performing while he held her.

He continued to sway for several minutes, and he allowed his body to fully relax when he felt her arms slowly entwine and wrap around his waist, her hands resting at an upwards angle to clutch at the fabric of the jacket over his back. She moved her head forward to bury her nose into his chest before turning her head to the side to rest her cheek against the same spot. She closed her eyes, her eyelids acting like wipers as they squeezed the liquid that had settled over her eyes downward to gather on her lower eye lashes before making the final plunge over her cheeks, making her skin salty. She let out a tired and strangled emotional sigh, remaining silent but feeling herself being calmed by his words.

"You must be hungry," Bane said after they swayed for what felt like an hour with little regard to those who may be watching their interaction. The sound of Myra's stomach growling highlighted his words.

Myra remained quiet, still very clearly mute from the distress she had just endured. Bane knew he had his work cut out for him when he saw her eyes make several last fleeting looks towards the entrance of the vehicle as if knowing all she needed to do was hop in it to escape this kind of emotional turmoil from happening again in the future. Very clearly questioning whether this continued situation was worth the distress; whether _he _was worth it.

"Come. Let's go locate some food. Whatever you desire," Bane said earnestly.

Myra nodded slowly, pacified for the immediate present, her cheek rubbing against his chest. She remained silent as Bane eased his arms from around her, leaning his body back as if to inspect her. He brought one of his hands to cup the side of her cheek, his large calloused thumb rubbing away the salty tear streaks that had marred her skin. The other hand cupped her ear gently, his fingertips fondly brushing against the sensitive skin behind her ear. He waited until Myra looked up at him bashfully, her nose red from her emotional upheaval.

She held his gaze, her hands settled and clutching at his sides over his leather back brace. Once he established a strong visual lock on her, he leaned his head forward and rested his forehead against hers affectionately, closing his eyes. Myra returned the gesture by closing her eyes too, sniffling once to prevent nasal liquid from dripping down to her lip as she leaned into the comforting pressure of his forehead against hers.

Bane finally eased his head back after several moments, bringing one of his arms down to his side and his other hand to rest on her upper back, leading her away from the vehicle back towards the entrance to the penthouse. He turned his head towards his men, giving them a brief nod of dismissal as he led Myra away. A look of sadness and indignation settled over Barsad's face at having to witness Myra's needless and avoidable emotional distress. Bane pointedly ignored Barad's judgmental stare that very clearly insinuated that Bane most certainly could have handled that situation far better.

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**Author: How angry do you think Myra's gonna be after she has time to fully process how mean those things Bane said to her were? Is she gonna stay? IS SHE GONNA GO? HE WAS SO MEAN YOU GUYS. HE CAN BE RUTHLESSSSSSS. GUHHHH AAAANGGGSSTT. Also, don't forget to review. You guys were AMAZING last chapter; I really really appreciate all of the supportive words and comments. I've very fortunate to have such an amazingly supportive bunch :D **


	16. Chapter 16

_**Chapter 16**_

_**Author: HAPPY NEW YEAR! I'm sorry it took so long to update. It's been a busy crazy time for me! Thank you everyone that reviewed the last chapter! **__** I'd also like to do a huge shout-out to Andrea for assisting with edits! SHE'S AMAZING. AN EDIT MASTER MACHINE. I'm super grateful for her editing prowess :D **_

_**I keep forgetting to point out the name of the story: 'Opening Bell'. That's the sound heard in the very first chapter in the Gotham Stock Exchange. 'Opening Bell' could also be used to describe what Bane is doing to Myra (BELL). -ZING- Opening her up out of her introverted 'shell'/'life'/whatev', and other such things :P OoOOoOooOo YAH. **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

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Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 5 days

Myra was considerably reserved following the 'Bane-trying-to-shove-her-into-a-car' incident. While she allowed herself to be led back into the penthouse building by Bane, she did so with moderate reluctance. She peered at him out of the corner of her eye as if she were fully expecting him to retract his sentiments and simply decide he didn't want her after all.

Once they made it into the penthouse suite, Bane immediately beelined into the kitchen to begin conjuring up a meal suitable for Myra's tastes. Myra didn't follow him; she just watched as he marched hastily into the kitchen. To fill the void, she calmly walked to the bedroom and began systematically removing all of her clothes and belongings from the dresser drawers and shoved them into a large duffel bag. She then walked to the entrance of the penthouse suite and calmly set the bag just beside the door as a visual indicator that she fully expected there to be another instance in which Bane would attempt to remove her. When that occurrence were to happen again, she figured, at least she would be fully ready and packed and hopefully less disoriented. She also felt motivated due to the slow swelling of defensiveness over the situation and a desire to protect her feelings from that same level of hurt and rejection she suffered when Bane spew his verbal venom at her. She trudged back into the kitchen to join him when she was done.

As Myra sat down in the kitchen chair and watched him work her thoughts wandered back to the harsh things he said to her. They were so incredibly malicious and alarming. She never imagined words having the capability of making her feel so _bad_ and _worthless_ about herself. It was like suddenly being told of a handicap that she clearly had but had never really noticed or contemplated until it was needlessly pointed out to her with the sole purpose of causing her distress and discomfort. It was decidedly not a pleasant feeling. It was hard not to be self-conscious, frustrated, anxious, and angry pondering it. She wasn't just angry with him; she was also very clearly angry at herself for allowing herself to fall into the situation in the first place. She knew she very clearly failed to assess situations and scenarios that were going to be harmful to her whether that be in the short-term or long-term sense. She knew she needed to do better.

Myra reflexively rubbed her stomach as she thought about her lack of foresight as it pertained to the long-term. She then began to assess the masterful way he was able to manipulate the situation. The ease in which he was able to transition between dishing out such incredibly hurtful sinister things and then almost in the same breath whisper things that were so intimately impactful that it made her feel like she was going to implode. She knew he had a wonderful way of intimately knowing what she _wanted _to hear. This came with a downside; he very obviously also knew what she desperately _didn't _want to hear. He had said those things to her in front of the car - those _mean, terrible, inexcusable _things - knowing they would undoubtedly be incredibly impactful and painful for her. He knew her in a way that made her realize she wasn't able to reciprocate. She had no idea what kind of beautiful or hateful things she could say to him that would have the same level of impact that his words had on her. It made her feel moderately neglectful in a twisted and distorted sense because she felt as if she didn't know Bane as intimately as he seemed to know her as if he had vested the time to ensure he knew her deepest darkest nightmares while she obviously hadn't taken the time to know his.

Was he manipulating her in other ways and she was just too blind to see it? Had she fallen too deep into his snare? Was she blinded by her feelings for him, unable to see reality due to the smokescreen he enveloped her in? Could she break free from those feelings? Could she force herself _not _to feel those things for him if she concentrated long and hard enough on situations like this - situations that implied she was stuck forever in a loop of love and torment? Could she detach herself from him for fear that she would soon be in too deep like an engulfing all-consuming quicksand that took not only her body but her mind and soul? Could she focus on her anger instead of…._No Myra. Don't think about it. Think about hate and anger and ways he has wronged you. _

She knew she was transparent to him; as easy to read as one of the novels he devoured in his leisure time. He knew _exactly _what to say to whip her back into his arms like a yo-yo, even if he saw anger radiating off of her. And for all of the ways he seemed to know her he was still largely a mystery to her. An enigma. She didn't know what drove him, what he was thinking, or the secrets she certainly knew he kept close to his chest. She would often still find herself surprised some days when she looked at him, curious and in awe over the fact that he was even _with _her. And why? She felt like she had a vague superficial understanding perhaps of why he kept her around, but she knew there were other reasons beyond what she had surmised on her own. She knew they were reasons that he hadn't shared with her and perhaps never would because he wasn't as open or transparent as she was. Or perhaps he felt he didn't need to because he was the one in control of the situation. She had felt a moderate sense of safety and assurance knowing he was in charge of 'them' and that she didn't have to worry or think about the present or future because he seemed to be the one steering the course; but at what cost? When did she relinquish herself over to him? When would she ever regain control? Was she still just a hostage?

She knew with certainty that he would never divulge with her what he _really _was thinking or planning because she also wasn't 'in the know' or 'part of the club', therefore undeserving of knowing 'these things'. At first she loved this ambiguity; it in some way released a burden off her shoulders of having to deal with the moral responsibility of all of the things he may be planning as it pertained to the 'club' and 'his men', 'Talia', or even herself, like how she willfully neglected the ethics of living in the penthouse suite of a dead man with a known terrorist. Now it just made her feel like a study participant behind a one-way privacy glass window where he was always able to see her while she sat on the other side blind, alone, and confused.

She _hated_ it.

She continued to watch him make a cheese pizza from scratch just for her and just the way she liked it in a luxury kitchen with tools, appliances, and equipment that didn't rightfully or legally belong to them. Bane took liberties with these amenities almost as if he decided one day that they were his now. What other things does he take that don't rightfully belong to him? Does he do this often? Will it catch up to him? Will it catch up to _her? _Did he take ownership of her, knowing full well she didn't rightfully belong to him or his cause until one day he decided she did, like that pizza pan he was using that was now _his _pizza pan? Does anyone ever say no to him?

She stared in somewhat of a trance as these thoughts continued to swirl inside her mind. When he finished up and placed the cooked pizza in front of her and took a step back like a chef waiting for an appraisal. She just lifted her chin up to give him a side-eye glance with her lips forming no other shape but a firm line before she turned her head back to stare at the pizza in front of her. She found that she didn't have an appetite despite the rebellious thunder coming from her stomach. After several moments she relented and began eating the pizza tentatively and somewhat reluctantly after Bane's breathing slowly escalated.

It was absolutely delicious.

She _hated_ that.

After Myra ate her last bite, she settled in the kitchen chair in a vegetative state as she idly watched Bane clean up the dishes and the counters from the mess he made crafting the pizza from scratch. Neither of them said anything as he did this. Myra saw Bane's expression take on an almost light-hearted quality as if he were attempting to force calm and passiveness to the situation simply through the use of his eyes and eyebrows. He wasn't successful. Myra's expression turned into a slightly soured furrow-browed look.

Once Bane was completed with his chore, he moved over to stand next to Myra and extended an arm as an invitation for them to proceed out of the kitchen. Myra got up from her chair slowly and perhaps begrudgingly before she started trudging out towards the hallway and towards the master suite. Bane followed closely behind and eyed her, intently focused on her as if she would suddenly disappear.

Myra proceeded to brush her teeth and prepare for bed. She was finished before Bane, as usual, and went to go lie on her side of the bed. She moved herself so that she was as close to the edge of the bed as possible with her back facing his side. She wanted to reduce the risk of him reaching out to touch her. She knew this was passive aggressive but she didn't care. Bane couldn't see the sour expression that continued to occupy Myra's face as he got into bed.

Bane either ignored or didn't notice her obvious attempts at lying on the very edge of the bed. He slid himself closer to her, gently pushing his body up alongside the back of hers to gently spoon her from behind. He brushed his hand over her hair in soft soothing strokes, craning his head up and over to peer down at her to gauge her mood and reaction. She didn't tilt her head to the side to return his gaze but instead closed her eyes as an indicator she simply wanted to go to sleep. Bane slowed down his calming strokes and rested his head down on the pillow next to her before he followed her lead.

The warmth radiating off of his body felt so satisfying, so pleasant, and comforting with his elbow resting gently at her waist so that his arm could curl over her body and extend upward to nestle against her chest. It made her feel like she was being encapsulated and protected by him. It also reminded her how strong and massive he was with each breath he took as his sculpted physique molded and brushed against hers. The airy mechanical rhythmic wheezes of his breathing amplified through his mask exhaling gently against the nape of her neck gave her a combination of goosebumps and the feeling of being coaxed into sleep and passiveness.

She _hated _it.

She felt like she was being coerced into compliance and passiveness. It was almost as if he thought an appropriate way of handling the matter was by tipping the scale of his 'niceties' into her favor, hoping she would just ignore or forget what he said and move on. Almost as if he didn't really know or care to comprehend how hurtful he was when he said those things to her.

Regardless of his intentions, all she knew was that she couldn't stop fixating on what he had said. Her mind kept spinning around the central theme that he essentially declared her to be a worthless insignificant human being whom no one would mourn if she were to spontaneously combust. It was deeply unsettling and jarring to know how truly mediocre and unimportant her existence was, particularly to someone else.

He declared these things in a way that indicated she should feel profound shame for these glaring holes in her character. And the problem was she _did_ because what he was said was true and she hadn't stopped to realize the truth of it until he pointed it out to her. She had been living blissfully and happily - _ignorant. _She also had adopted a level of contended pride assuming he thought of her in some sort of elevated light, like she was special or had some sort of unique quality about her that he deemed admirable and desirable.

She didn't _have _to live like this. No one was forcing her. The only force she ever felt was her internal voice giving her doubt by constantly flashing reasons for why she loved him regardless of what he did or said. _What did I say about thinking about that word? Stop. Fight it. Fixate on the negative. _

Her eyes opened up in the dark. She blinked once slowly to let her eyes adjust to the darkness before she let her eyes fall down to settle on his arm that was nestled just over her chest and softly cradled between her breasts. Her eyebrows knitted together as she stared down at his hand.

The only desirable attribute that he probably found of any worth was her body. She figured he wanted someone to keep him warm at night. To satiate his sexual hunger. _Talia was right. _It didn't matter how worthless she was; the more worthless, the better probably. _That way it was easier to just go and dump me in the trash when he was done with me. He already knows no one is out there looking for me; he said so himself._ Almost as if that fact had been an important detail to him in choosing her as a bedmate. Now she knew why. It's not like she put up much of a fight, either; she knew she probably seemed all too willing and eager to just spread her legs open for him whenever the occasion called for it. _Ugh. I'm going to be sick. _

It took Myra several hours to finally calm - _exhaust - _her mind before she eventually fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 4 days

The following day, Myra stayed in bed well past the time that Bane eventually got up to go do his morning routine. When she did get up out of bed she foraged for a notebook, a pencil, and a book to read. She then immediately navigated to an isolated area of the penthouse where she could find privacy and relative seclusion. She found this spot in the main living room in a lounge chair with a footstool that was set up next to the large viewing windows that had Gotham in full display. She nestled into the chair and began scribbling down her thoughts.

She began making several lists based on her desire to steer her mind into a slightly more pessimistic nature hoping that would give her some strength. The first list was titled, "Things I am good at." The second list had a title that was just simply in the form of a quickly illustrated frowny face presumably to list things she perhaps wasn't so good at or was lacking. She sat there staring at the list of "Things I'm good at", and after searching her brain for several seconds in frustration she moved on to the other list. She knew it would be easier to identify those things since they had already been so eloquently identified for her by Bane.

_Job. Career. Friends. Family. Safety net. Life choices. Judge of character. _Myra paused after being able to scribble the first seven things on the list without any sort of mental exertion. This made her a little miserable, but she decided to continue regardless. _Cooking. Cleaning. Singing. Dancing. Playing chess. Fighting. Arguments. Cutting my own bangs…._

Myra's list went on until she almost hit the bottom of the page. She doodled idly at the corner of the notebook before she decided to make the dive into attempting the other list again. She put the pencil down as if she were on the verge of writing something, but she ended up simply doodling a small amorphous blob shape since she was clearly at a loss.

She finally concluded that she should have just left when given the opportunity. _'Missed Opportunities', _she added in the small margin of space at the bottom of the frowny-faced list. _Why did I put up such a struggle? He was giving me an 'out'. I should have just gotten into that stupid car._ She knew she should have realized he was going to remove her sooner or later. She knew it was mildly naive and foolish of her to think otherwise. '_Foresight_', she scribbled down in the last available space at the bottom of the frowny-face list on the notepad.

She stopped doodling when she heard movement behind her. Bane approached her from the back of her chair, stopping just at her shoulder. Myra brought her notepad up to her chest to prevent him from seeing what she was doing. She just furrowed her brows and gazed down at the carpet, waiting for him to make the first move.

"What's that you're up to?" Bane asked casually as if he were simply curious to know how she was keeping herself busy.

Myra just put on a mildly sour expression.

"Nothing," she said quietly.

"It didn't look like _'nothing'._ May I see it?" he asked politely, his tone sounding faintly like he was about to become a massive bully if she didn't comply with his request.

"No," Myra snapped back quickly, hugging the notepad more firmly against her chest.

Bane just stared at her, his brows slowly knitting together. He then walked around to the front of the chair stopping just where her legs rested on the footstool. He casually leaned down to grab her legs before gently removing them from the footstool. Before taking his seat at the now-unoccupied footstool, he leaned forward to snatch the notepad clean from under her arms.

Myra put up a struggle, grabbing the corners of the notepad and huffing fiercely at him even going so far as to slap at his hands to deter him. But there was no deterring Bane. He just plucked it from her hands like the massive bully Myra knew him to be before he settled down onto the stool with a huff and directed his attention to the list. It wasn't her notebook anymore; it was now _his _notebook. _Typical. _

His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he scanned the list quickly. It didn't take long for him to figure out the meaning of the contents. He then looked up at Myra, giving her an annoyed and impatient expression while waving the notebook at her. Myra was ignoring him by pointedly staring out the window to look at the skyscrapers of Gotham.

"You're missing quite a few things from this list, I'm afraid," he said as if in an annoyed and impatient jest, waving it at her in mild irritation before throwing it into her lap.

"That was private," Myra mumbled angrily.

"Was it? I hadn't noticed. Perhaps we should discuss the contents of that list? But first we should address what occurred yesterday," Bane said with a mix of relative calm and determination.

"I'd rather not," Myra replied, clearly agitated.

She knew Bane could be described as being extremely efficient. He was precise, sometimes mildly aggressive, extremely blunt, and driven by military-like standards. There was no frivolity behind his actions. He steered right to the heart of the problem. Given that, she felt like more than ever he was dealing with her like he would any other problem almost as if he were internally running down a list of items he needed 'checking off'. _Talk to Myra about how I implied she was a worthless human: Check. _She couldn't help but feel mildly annoyed and upset over what she could only perceive to be a clear lack of empathy and instead only his desire to quell the problem. Because, Myra knew, any problem in Bane's world was always dealt with quickly. That was how he functioned. It was semantics regarding what _caused _the problem. He made her feel as if it were her fault for still being upset about it since he appeared to have already moved on from the event. Why hadn't she?

She also knew that whatever she said to him would be inconsequential to his words and reason. It was painfully obvious from the events that transpired the previous day how much he fully eclipsed her when it came to handling verbal disagreements. What was the point of getting into another one if she already knew who was going to 'win'? He won at everything, and in the rare instance that he didn't win fairly he simply took and claimed whatever he wanted like a giant bully.

Bane regarded her briefly before he responded.

"It's important that we do. Clearly you are still distressed and have demons plaguing your mind," Bane said with mild sympathy while moving his hand to gently cup her kneecap with his hand. Myra swatted it away.

"The only demon plaguing me right now is _you_. I'd simply prefer not talking about it. You're just going to win anyway. Can we just jump ahead and declare you the victor?" Myra grumbled in agitation.

Myra could already see the conversation laid out. He'd rationalize and insert logic into the conversation in a way that would make her emotions feel less validated. Perhaps he'd tell her what she wanted to hear while making her feel like he was entirely focused on her and her needs. She'd probably even come out in an elevated feeling of bliss without truly addressing the problem. She wasn't even sure what the problem _was_; the fact that he said those things, or the fact that they were true? It's not like he could take the realization of her failures 'back', either. He couldn't gather up the shitty feeling she was experiencing from the realization that he had judged her based on those failures which she hadn't even thought of as 'failures' until he pointed them out to her and made her aware.

Bane continued to stare at her patiently.

"This isn't about 'winning'. This is about us having a _discussion_. There is no 'winning' or 'losing' in discussions," Bane said, his eyes roaming over her face.

Myra turned to look at him. The expression she gave him very clearly indicated she thought quite the contrary. She also thought it was typical of him to adopt that mentality since he never experienced the losing side of a 'discussion' and having to submit himself to someone else's logic. He couldn't possibly fathom what she was feeling.

It was also still so fresh, so raw; how could he _say _those things? What else was he holding back? What else does he think about her? What other things is he going to tell her that will make her feel even worse about herself than she already does? She didn't want to find out; the only way to avoid hurtful things was simply avoiding the topic altogether. She didn't want to bring up each particular component of her failures, analyze it, and be _reminded _of it. It gave her anxiety just thinking about it. Her anxiety made her feel unloved, unimportant, and unappreciated. It was not a pleasant feeling.

Bane furrowed his brows at her response. The look he was giving her indicated that he thought she was being utterly ridiculous and irrational.

"I can see you're angry. Good. Rage is a fundamental component for discourse," he said.

Myra balked at his comment. Then, very slowly, she got up from the chair and put the notepad down. She then moved to leave. Bane snatched a hand out to her wrist to stop her.

Myra stopped and stood patiently, redirecting her gaze to focus on the floor. She then clenched her fist.

"Please let me go. I'm not going to talk about it with you. I'd prefer to be left alone for a while, if you don't mind," Myra said with forced politeness.

Bane stared at her hard. Myra assumed he simply wasn't going to let her wrist go based on the amount of time he continued to hold it. However, he did eventually let go of her wrist and dropped his hand without another word.

She then exited the room.

He watched her as she sauntered off, presumably in search for another more isolated destination within the penthouse suite since clearly the one she had just claimed had been discovered.

* * *

When it was time to eat, Myra of course followed her nose to the smell of cooked food wafting from the kitchen. As she entered the kitchen, she saw Bane was finishing up dishing the food out on two plates. She went to go take her seat at the kitchen table. She opened up the baby magazine that now looked like a crumpled mess due to the amount of time and energy she devoted to it, not caring whether Bane saw her looking at it. In some begrudging, retaliatory, and shameful way, a visual indicator of his annoyance at anything 'baby' might even make her feel some level of satisfaction.

Myra paging through a baby magazine was, of course, not going to get on Bane's nerves. If anything, the sight of it was a mild relief to Bane. It gave him an indicator that she perhaps hadn't lost interest in the prospect of being pregnant, despite the events of the day before. Her pointed silence, however, was unnerving and disheartening.

He served her food which she immediately started digging into. He sat down on his side of the table and stared down at his plate. He then looked up at the spectacle of her eating, seeing her look somewhat at ease as she was doing so. He figured now would be an appropriate time to make another attempt at addressing the white elephant in the room.

"So. Concerning yesterday..." Bane began to say in an almost upbeat fashion, but stopped when he saw Myra pause with her fork in her mouth.

He then saw her take a napkin and begin to gently wipe her mouth before getting up from her chair. Without finishing her food, giving him a look, or saying another word, she left abruptly. She simply sauntered right out of the kitchen.

Bane stared at her leaving. He then turned to look at her unfinished plate of food. He fought back the urge of strong-arming the situation and forcing her to both finish her plate of food and to discuss the matter, but knew that his strong-arm tactics would not be received well in this situation.

He gave out an annoyed grunt, clenching the fork in his hand as he turned his attention back down to his food which looked considerably less appetizing than it did moments prior.

* * *

That evening, Bane noticed that she had retreated to a lounging spot in the living room. He decided to give her the space she so desperately seemed to desire, but when it was time for bed he went back into the living room to check on her. He saw that she had placed her book on the coffee table and turned the lights off and seemed to decide to simply sleep in the chair snuggled up in a throw blanket. Alone.

He watched her sleeping for several moments, internally debating whether to attempt to relocate her to the bedroom but decided against it. He went to the bedroom instead and fetched a pillow and blanket before returning to the living room where he promptly claimed the larger couch as his bed for the night, knowing he simply couldn't leave her isolated and alone in the living room due to the prospect of an intruder sneaking in.

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 3 days

When Bane woke up early the following morning, Myra was still fast asleep on the lounge chair. He excused himself and attended other matters in the kitchen while she continued to sleep.

The neutron bomb was set to go off in three days. There was work that needed to be done and unfortunately, he couldn't do it in the penthouse. This required him to call up several of his men who he then stationed just outside the door, giving them strict orders not to enter the premise unless they heard any audible signs of distress. He also appointed several men just outside the building to keep a bird's eye view on the penthouse in an attempt to spot and divert anyone attempting to foolishly scale the building. He did all of this and was out the door before Myra had woken up or realized he was gone. He even prepared her a plate of food that he left on the coffee table.

When Myra did eventually wake up, it was a sluggish affair. She immediately eyeballed the plate of food on the coffee table. Ordinarily the sight of a plate of prepared breakfast foods just for her would bring her a moderate amount of excitement and satisfaction, but all she could fixate on were her own inadequacies. She decided to go make her own breakfast instead in a show of mild rebellion and perhaps proof that she could be self-sufficient when the opportunity arises.

She ended up settling on food that didn't require any cooking or prep, which was a very stale bagel and some dry oatmeal. She drank a healthy portion of orange juice before she then proceeded to reclaim her perch on the lounge chair with a view overlooking Gotham.

When Bane came back later that evening, he found Myra reading peacefully in her lounge chair. She didn't look up from her book to acknowledge him, but instead simply turned the page of her book as if she were deeply distracted by its contents. He observed that she hadn't touched the food he prepared for her, making him slightly concerned and curious to know what it was she ate instead. The dry oatmeal mess and bagel crumbs in the kitchen provided him compelling evidence.

Bane proceeded to prepare dinner. Despite the very aromatic smell coming from the kitchen as well as the very loud declaration from Bane indicating that food was ready for consumption, Myra chose to stay settled in her chair. Bane sat in the kitchen chair for several minutes in hopes that she would join him, but came to the conclusion that she wasn't going to. He ate alone and in silence instead. He left her a plate on the counter in case she decided to come in later and eat, but doubted it very much since it appeared, she developed a newfound preference for scavenging snacks.

Bane went and attended to his business in the master suite before he made his way back to the living room. He noticed the lights were turned off. He went and investigated.

He saw her taking up her same sleeping spot on the lounge chair, clearly still preferring to sleep alone. Bane stared at her in the darkness, experiencing the same indecisiveness of whether he should attempt to relocate her to the bedroom. Considering they only had a handful of nights left together, he didn't want this to be how they would be spent; alone and isolated from each other. He made up his mind.

He ambled up next to her quietly and bent down to gently move his hands under her shoulders and knees. He then smoothly lifted her up from her spot in the lounge chair.

Myra immediately woke up from being shifted in her spot.

She was not pleased.

She instinctively pushed her arms against his chest, writhing and twisting her body like a cat that did not want to be handled or picked up. Bane had no choice but to clumsily let her down onto her feet after her writhing intensified into aggressive shoves and pushes.

She righted herself on her feet, turning around in the darkness to give him a seething indignant glare.

"I was _asleep_," she said, sounding affronted that he would have the audacity to wake her up.

"I know," Bane replied calmly, ignoring the glare she was directing at him.

"I do not enjoy being woken up," she replied irritably. She knew he was taking her back to bed so he could sleep next to her; to _feel _and_ touch_ her as he nodded off to sleep, thinking only of his comfort and utilizing the only quality of hers worth anything to him. _He doesn't even seem to care whether I want to sleep next to him or not. All he cares about is some warm body next to him. _

She gave him one last furrowed-brow glare before she bent down to pick up the throw blanket that had fallen on the floor. She then stalked off towards one of the spare guest bedrooms since clearly this spot had been 'compromised'.

The dismissiveness in her glare and the turn of her head as she walked away from him made him stare in silence.

They had such little time left together on this earth, and this is what it had come to.

Bane continued to watch her, fixated on the visual image of her marching away from him. She very clearly wanted nothing to do with him. Hated him for touching her. Hated him for trying to talk with her. Hated him for wanting to be close to her so he could feel her comfort just one more night. But most of all, hated him for saying those things to her and making her feel the way she did.

He knew her anger wasn't just for him. It clearly extended beyond that. He could see that she was angry at herself and the reality of her situation that she had allowed herself to get into. He couldn't tell who she hated more at this moment. That thought outright crushed him.

He clenched his own fists. His frustration was almost unbearable. His inability to explain himself to her was too much. The burden of these f_eelings _inside his head. They were blinding. Enraging. Insufferable. Oppressive. They were constricting his lungs and making his chest feel heavy. They were fogging his brain and vision. They distorted and toyed with his senses. They made him feel disoriented, clumsy, and drunk.

He followed after her sluggishly towards the bedroom. When he made it into the hallway, he slowed down to a snail pace until he simply stopped as if he was suddenly depleted of all energy. He blinked several times in seeming disorientation, his eyes fleetingly looking up to gaze at her ahead in the hallway as he blinked furiously to try and regain focus. Her fists were clearly balled up in annoyance at having been woken up and disturbed by _him. _At being _with him. _At words spoken by _him. _

He turned his head to the right as if to idly inspect the framed art that had decorated the hallway, and then proceeded to look to the left which was just simply a clear undecorated wall. A blank canvas. A clean slate. An open surface. He took several deep breaths as he directed his focus on the large painted wall.

Without another word, he rammed himself head-first into the wall.

Once his head settled several inches into the painted drywall, he removed his head, not even seeming to care to inspect the massive dent left behind before he continued to repeat the process. He brought his large hands up for leverage as he performed the repetitive and aggressive act. Alarming crunches permeated through the hallway from the plaster and wood being splintered, crunched, and broken. It sounded like a wrecking crew pulverizing a wall with a sledgehammer.

This, of course, got Myra's attention. She startled, turning around to detect the source of the unexpected and frightening sounds of destruction erupting behind her. When her eyes spotted Bane and what he was doing her first instinct was pure shock. Then fright. Then panic as she instinctively bolted towards him to grab hold of the vest covering his back. She gave it an aggressive tug in a seemingly futile attempt at stopping him.

"What are you _DOING? _ARE YOU _CRAZY? STOP IT. STOP IT NOW," _Myra cried out to him over the sound of carnage.

Whether he noticed her attempt at thwarting the crisis through combined tugging and screaming was a mystery. One thing was for certain, however; he did not stop ramming his head into the wall.

The amount of damage to the wall was devastating. The painted drywall seemed to crumble and fall wherever his head made contact. When he rightfully cleared one section of the wall with dents and craters that reached into the inner wooden 2x4 frame, he simply re-directed himself to the next unscathed section as if he were a man with the sole purpose of tearing down the entire hallway wall.

Myra began punching him after realizing he was too preoccupied with the task of inserting his head into the wall to even notice her. When he also failed to notice her punching fists, she quickly circled around to the front of him. She roamed her hands over his body like she was circling a skittish horse's behind that had a tendency to kick, hoping he could detect where she was physically due to his vision being sporadically obstructed.

She kept circling until she was in front of him. She half expected him to simply ram himself right into her, which of course would pulverize her. When he reeled back and was on the verge of making another dive forward into the wall, she braced herself by squeezing her eyes closed and bringing herself flush against his body in an attempt to minimize the pain and injury she would undoubtedly suffer. She knew her attempts would be similar to trying to brace herself from being struck by a massive bull's head. She took a quick final intake of breath as one final futile preparatory measure.

Time seemed to stand still as she waited for that physical mass to crush her up against the wall like the small, helpless thing she was compared to Bane. She felt her mind racing beyond belief. After one second went by, and then another, she slowly opened her eyes. She saw that he had stopped and slumped forward slightly before letting out a loud aggravated breath, using his hand against part of the wall to help keep him upright. He then used his hands to propel him back away from the wall and Myra who stood between the two.

His eyes slowly dropped to look at her. He studied her for a moment before he slunk down to the ground suddenly as if his energy was all but spent. Myra followed him down to the floor and knelt beside him. She saw he appeared to be on the verge of lying prone along the floor as he adjusted himself so she gently grabbed hold of his head and guided it into her lap. She cradled it as he eased his body into a lazy fetal position on his side, his expression clearly dazed, hurt, and disoriented.

She began picking at pieces of painted wall and plaster that had embedded themselves in his eyebrows and face, her other hand curled around his head gently but firmly to prevent him from moving. She then began gently stroking and massaging his skin. She saw that his eyes were glistening in apparent pain or emotion, the corners of his eyes starting to gather moisture that looked like globules of dew on the verge of plummeting down his cheeks. The sight of him looking so pained and miserable made her heart ache. It made her instinctively deeply regret her behavior the last few days. It suddenly made her feel very petty. What would she do if he were ever seriously injured? If he suddenly no longer existed? That thought made her nauseous.

She was forced to confront the reality of the situation. Regardless of how much she tried, no level of internal toxicity or rage could remove the fact that she loved him, unquestionably. It was like those two feelings existed on a completely separate plane within herself, having no influence whatsoever on the other. This realization made her confusingly remorseful, almost like she was simply surrendering and giving up. Would she always love him no matter what he said or did to her? When was enough? Would she continue to blindly love him even after his abuse escalated into something else? Could he see that in her? Is that why he treated her that way - because he knew he could get away with it and she would still love him regardless? How would she know? She was so mad at him just moments ago but seeing him hurt like he was now and suffering made her anger feel foolish and shallow and instead all she could feel was choking panic and concern. And _love._ All she could think about was how lost and helpless she would be if he were suddenly gone. It made her realize how little control she had over her feelings for him, despite her attempts at steering her mind to think otherwise. _Great. Add that to the ever-expanding list of things I don't have control of. _

She plucked a particularly large piece of plaster from his eyebrow and held it out for him to see as if she had just peeled off a particularly large skin flake for him to admire, her tone sounding as if she were lightly chastising him for being out in the sun too long which resulted in a scaly, peely burnt noggin.

"Look at that. Will ya just l_ook at that," _she said as if in amazement, giving no real reason for why she was showing him the destruction that riddled his face. She was still very clearly processing the event that had just transpired and was saying and doing things in a way that still very clearly reflected drunken-like disorientation after feeling very real shock. Her ears wouldn't stop ringing almost as if an explosion had suddenly gone off next to them; she even felt the hair over her body stand up from the eruption of goosebumps over her skin.

She held it out in front of his face for several seconds to let him observe it despite the fact that his eyes didn't appear to move or make attempts at focusing on it. She then flicked it away before she continued grooming the rest of his eyebrows and face of small white particles as if that were the most important job on earth while she slowly settled down from shock.

"Promise me you won't ever do something stupid like that again," she finally mumbled out softly after the foggy numbness of shock ebbed.

Bane blinked slowly as he continued to stare at nothing in particular.

"I promise. You did not deserve the cruelty I directed towards you. It was foolish and heartless. I will spear my tongue with a red-hot poker before I say such terrible, mean, nasty things to you again," he mumbled out lethargically as if he were near his breaking point.

Myra knit her brows together as soon as she realized his words and promise wasn't in response to him ever ramming his head into the wall but instead on something else entirely. She wasn't sure how to respond; anger started swelling into her chest but it was soon extinguished by the overriding emotions of sadness, concern, and empathy. Oh, and love of course.

Myra groaned in feigned mild annoyance instead, sweeping more bits of dust off of his face. She traced her fingers along the forehead hardware of his mask, detecting a trace amount of blood leaking from under the hardware.

"Ugh, you're bleeding. Let me go get the first aid quick. Don't move," she said as she gently removed his head from her lap, swept a clean spot on the floor for his head to lie on before gently placing it down. She then hurried into the bathroom and rummaged in the cupboards quickly before making her way back with a small white first aid container and a washcloth. She knelt back down beside him and reclaimed his head by placing it back into her lap comfortably.

Without seeking his approval, she gently unlatched the hardware of his mask to get at the wound beneath the central forehead hardware. Bane just lie passively, his eyes blinking lethargically as she worked to unlatch the hardware of his mask.

"Take a deep breath," she urged him as she kept her hand held firmly over the front of of his mask to keep it flush against his mouth after properly detaching the hardware.

Bane obliged by inhaling deeply from the mask. Myra then removed it and set it down next to her on the floor. Her eyes then went to the small linear wound that ran down his forehead. She wiped at the clotted blood before she grabbed a small alcohol gauze pad and began cleaning it up. Her eyes inspected the rest of his head for other injuries as she dabbed idly. She saw several lumps beginning to form, but nothing else appeared to be bleeding. During the end of this inspection her eyes locked onto his. She saw a considerable amount of moisture begin to coat his eyes possibly due to the sting he was feeling from the alcohol against the wound.

"Quit acting like a baby," Myra teased softly as she continued dabbing the cut on his forehead, knowing she wasn't being cruel and aggressive with her tactics. After several moments she came to realize that the moisture in his eyes wasn't because of physical pain; he was experiencing mental torment. She should have realized a small cut on his head wouldn't cause him distress; he wore a mask that pumped him full of anesthetic that undoubtedly numbed him to most physical pain.

She quickly finished dabbing his wound before putting a large band aid right over it. She then leaned down to kiss the band-aid-covered wound gently with a slight smile on her lips as she did so, feeling like a mother kissing away the hurt of a toddler's wound considering Bane's awkward fetal-lying position and his physical and mental state. She then tenderly reinstated his mask over his face, latching the hardware at the back. She then used the washcloth to dab at his eyes.

"It's okay….please don't cry. It's just a wall. We can get a new one. Or, better yet - we can fix it and cover up the...holes...," Myra whispered into his face, hoping her lighthearted comment would help ease the pain that was radiating off of him like heat in a molten lava field.

She bent her head down further so that her lips made contact with one of his plaster-speckled brows, giving him a gentle kiss before easing her head back to look down at him again.

Bane lay there for several moments, his mask putting out haggard huffs as if he were having trouble breathing before he eventually turned his attention to her with a lazy sideways glance. He focused on her for several seconds before turning his gaze away to simply stare forward at nothing in particular. Myra leaned forward again and planted another gentle kiss over his eye, brushing her fingers over his reddened and swollen-looking face.

"Are you hurt?" Myra asked tentatively.

Myra wasn't sure if he heard her since he didn't reply immediately. It took about 15 seconds for him to generate a response.

"Yes," he said hoarsely.

Myra frowned, running her fingers against his skin, continuing to pick at the small white plaster bits that littered his face.

"Should I go find a doctor?" she offered gently.

Again, he seemed to stare at nothing as he continued to look as if he were focused on his thoughts inwardly. It was another handful of seconds before he gave her a reply.

"No doctor can help me," he whispered regretfully through his mask.

Myra studied him for several moments, frowning. She continued to lean down and provide him with periodic gentle kisses against his skin as if that would simply kiss his hurt away. He eventually closed his eyes, content with the feeling of the comfort she was providing him, ignoring the dull throbbing at the front of his cranium. He instead concentrated on the sweet and lovely feelings Myra was giving him as her hands stroked his face and her lips continued to make quick sweeping pecks as if she needed to frequently re-energize him with healing power only her lips could provide.

"You shouldn't go to sleep if you have a concussion," Myra whispered into his ear, interpreting the closure of his eyelids as an indication that he was drifting off into sleep.

Bane opened his eyes sluggishly at her comment. He brought a hand up to grab her hand tenderly so he could pull it close to his chest. He simply held onto it, squeezing and stroking it and not letting it go. He held it firmly over his heart like a child holding a treasured stuffed animal to their chest as a means of comfort. Myra just watched him while idly stroking his face.

"Why did you try to plant your head into the wall?" Myra asked shyly several moments later after she had time to mentally calm down and evaluate the situation at hand.

Bane didn't respond immediately, his eyes slowly gazing forward with lazy intensity.

"I had an idea in my head that I wished to remove," Bane finally said matter-of-factly.

Myra furrowed her brows, leaning forward over him so that he was forced to make eye contact with her.

"_That _was _stupid. Don't. _DO._ That. _You could have given yourself serious brain damage. Is that what you want?" Myra softly chided, frowning as she glared at him.

Bane stared sideways at her for several moments before he gently closed his eyes again, not issuing a reply to her questions. Myra pursed her lips together when she saw his eyes close in either a show of ignoring her concern or because he was tired and was trying to fall asleep. She used her hands to cup him by the cheeks before bringing her lips close to his ears.

"_I told you not to go to sleep_. If you've injured your head, you need to stay awake," Myra continued to chide.

Bane's eyes fluttered open at her insistence; a coat of moisture glazed over both of them.

"Then you must keep me awake. Perhaps you'll humor me with a story," he suggested.

His request gave her enough shock to where she froze for several seconds, staring at him intently as if he may perhaps revoke his request because he was only teasing. He didn't.

"Uh..hm. Er….uh…." Myra said, trying to decide on a story. She knew she was rubbish at telling stories. So, she decided to make one up instead.

"There once….was…..a _brilliant _and_ beautiful_…..trading….analyst….intern who worked at a local Stock exchange. One day during what was otherwise a normal business day, a _huge _and _humongous _gorilla-man thug waltzed in looking to start some trouble for no good reason, it seemed. He acted like a _brute, _and boy was he scary looking," Myra began, stroking his cheek under his eyes with the side of her finger as she began her story.

"This celestial vixen woman intern with beauty and whit rivaled by no one saw this scary gorilla man walk in thrashing about like a big dumb hairy animal. She used her womanly wiles to convince him that he was being a huge idiot and should stop causing such a scene," Myra continued. She saw Bane's eyes begin to drift off again, not focusing on anything in particular but he still seemed mildly engaged from the mild periodic pressure he was applying to her hand whenever she was clearly referencing the fictional representation of him within the story.

"Instead of seeing reason in her words, he _snatched _her - KIDNAPPED HER! - like King Kong himself snatching the beautiful damsel in distress. He ran away with her in his arms, using his massive strength to climb up the side of the building to the very tippy-top of a tall massive penthouse building where he deposited the woman. He imprisoned her, not letting anyone near her, shouting and bellowing like a massive animal-idiot, periodically pounding his chest when he got angry which caused loud "_Boom boom boom" _noises to be heard throughout the city. It was _quite_ the spectacle," Myra continued. She saw Bane's eyes begin to faintly crinkle at the corners.

"The beautiful vixen used her cunning and….means of persuasion to convince him that he should stop acting like such a huge brainless animal buffoon because he certainly wasn't impressing anyone; especially _her. _He eventually agreed with her because he could see she clearly was basically a Greek goddess who knew better than he did and decided to let her go," Myra said, pausing as if she were finished with the story and that was that.

Bane turned his head in her lap, adjusting it so he could give her a sideways glance.

"That's the end of the story?" he asked after several moments in case Myra continued, sounding mildly disappointed.

"No, not exactly. Despite him agreeing to let her go, she knew she couldn't leave. She wanted to stay with him. She would have missed his massive gorilla-strength hugs too much and knew she loved him. My mother always said, "Stay close to your loved ones in case they decide to start ramming their head into the wall!". Smart woman, my mother," Myra finished, grinning down at him, bringing her nose down to rest against his cheek hoping to lighten the mood by teasing him in the obvious shadow-portrayal.

Bane just blinked slowly before knitting his brows together in concern.

"Foolish of her to stay. What qualities could she possibly find redeemable or endearing in that beast-man-creature?" Bane asked, sounding mildly put-out.

Myra leaned back and thought for a minute as she stared down at him.

"Oh I'm sure there were lots of reasons why she liked him," she offered.

Bane looked skeptical with his brows still firmly knitted together, his gaze critical.

"Such as?" he asked, challenging her as if he fully expected her to fumble and be unable to produce these 'reasons'.

Myra continued to stare at him before a grin slowly spread across her face, surprised that he seemed to be off-handedly fishing for words of reinforced praise, validation, and encouragement from her. She found this surprising because to her Bane always seemed like an incredibly confident and insightful man who never experienced self-doubt. He didn't need anyone telling him anything to help sway what he thought about himself or of others. He seemed to have an intuitive sense about these things and seemed to know what others thought of him already as if he could read their minds. Any advice or opinions offered to him verbally was simply amusing nonsense that had no impact whatsoever against his own assumptions due to his elevated level of confidence and insight. She realized that perhaps his self-confidence was now simply fractured, similar to the very large hole in the hallway wall. She decided it would be good to humor him to help ease his mind. She realized the task of listing things that this fictional version of her 'loved' about this gorilla-man wasn't too difficult, despite trying to force herself not to think about such things for the past few days. It was almost like the ideas and thoughts were just waiting in excited anticipation, wanting nothing more to spill out of her mouth.

"Well, for starters - she probably appreciated the time he sacrificed for her, despite being a very busy _buffoon. _She probably never felt like she was ignored or neglected. He always listened to her and did things the way she liked them even if that resulted in a mild inconvenience for him," Myra said.

Bane stared at her expectantly, clearly waiting for her to continue. She obliged.

"She loved how big his hands were compared to hers," Myra said as she gently grabbed his hand in hers and planted her palm against his as a quick visual comparison between the size of their hands. His dwarfed hers; he could easily bend his fingers right over her dainty fingertips.

"She enjoyed how caring and compassionate he could be, despite his tendency for simply _smashing _and _destroying _things. He had a soft gooey middle that he protected with a hard, gruff exterior. It was like a Cadbury creme egg; coincidentally, _also _her favorite candy," Myra grinned.

Bane just blinked slowly. Myra continued.

"She liked the way she felt when she was with him. Despite being a massive gorilla-man buffoon, people _listened _to him. He had an inherent-like authority about him. She loved being with him when his authority exuded onto those that followed him, even if those instances were rare for her to see since she seldom got to hang around his...friends. She realized people followed and listened to him not just because he was a big massive idiot who could probably smash their brains in, but because he was incredibly_ smart _and _passionate_," Myra said earnestly.

"She liked that he didn't get upset at her for sometimes stealing his big long-sleeved shirts to wear as pajamas. What she didn't like, though, was when he'd wake her up once a while in the early morning to steal that same shirt right off her back so _he _could wear it. Maybe he should do the damn laundry more often so that she didn't have to steal his shirts because her shirts were all dirty," Myra said, quickly transitioning into unsolicited advice.

"Speaking of laundry, she liked the way he _folded _the laundry so perfectly and precisely….," she said, clearly deviating into superficial tendencies.

"She loved his hugs. They were always so strong….and gentle at the same time. He gave the best hugs," she said.

"Oooh. oh! She loved his smile. He had the _best _smile...she just wished she saw it more often."

"She liked how easy it was for him to pick her up off of the ground and hold her close like she weighed nothing at all."

"She loved the way she could see his veins popping off the side of his head when he was suppressing some sort of opinion to her that he knew would probably piss her off so he shut up about it in instead."

"She loved the sound of his laugh. It was rare, but it made her happy for _days_ after hearing it. She wished she could bottle his laughter up into a mason jar and open it up and hear it when she wasn't feeling well."

Bane brought an arm around to wrap around her back to hold her close, clearly adjusting himself into a more comfortable position as if he were settling in to listen to a good long bedtime story. Myra continued, adjusting her hands to gently feather along his cheeks.

"She loved how baby-soft his cheeks felt," she said.

"She liked how he made sure to keep a full stock of her favorite snacks in the kitchen."

"She loved the way he would grab one of her feet and squeeze it before walking off whenever he passed by her lounging around like a lazy lump."

"She loved how expressive his eyes were," she said, moving her eyes to focus on his. She saw he was settled into a comfortable, relaxed state seemingly perfectly content to just lie right there on the floor and stare at nothing. She eased her body back away from his head as an indicator that it was time to relocate off of the floor, knowing this wasn't the best spot for him to lie down.

"Come on. Let's get up and get you into bed. You can't be comfortable lying on the floor like that," Myra said as she slowly untangled herself from him which she found to be mildly difficult due to the strength he maintained around her as if he were reluctant to let her go. She eventually slithered out of his grip and eased herself up onto her feet so she could bend forward to grab a hold of his arm, tugging on it gently to encourage him to stand on his own, knowing full-well that she was not going to be able to help lift him up even a fraction.

Bane lay unmoving on the floor, the tugging on his arm seeming to go unnoticed by him.

"Will you accompany me?" Bane softly inquired, his request clearly a condition of him moving up off of the floor.

Myra eyed him before giving out an exasperated sigh as if his request was terribly inconvenient for her.

"Yes, fine. Who else do you think is going to help you get into bed? Come on you loaf. Get _up,_" she urged.

Bane let her tug on his arm for several more moments before he started easing himself up off of the ground. He rolled forward with a massive grunt before lifting himself up slowly onto his feet. Myra brought her body closer to his and braced an arm behind his back in an attempt to stabilize him. He draped an arm over the back of her neck and shoulders, taking advantage of the small amount of stabilization she was offering him. They then finally shuffled towards the bedroom.

Myra walked with him to his side of the bed, helping him take off his military vest, brace, and pants so he could slip more comfortably into bed. She pulled the covers back for him to slide in which he did so as if he were extremely arthritic and geriatric. Once he eased into bed, Myra knelt next to him and eyed him, grabbing one of his hands so she could hold it against her lips idly.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Maybe some caffeine to keep you awake so you don't fall asleep? Are you hungry? Do you need ice for your head?" Myra asked, her hand briefly brushing across his forehead while her eyes searched his for any indicator of what it was he needed.

Bane lay there for several moments, simply taking in deep methodical breaths, appearing to either not properly hear or process her questions as his mind seemed to be far off focused on something else.

Myra paused briefly before turning her attention to his far-off gaze. _What thought in his mind did he want gone from his head? _

"Is there...something wrong?" Myra asked, unsure of how to broach the topic without causing him more distress.

Bane, of course, didn't respond instantaneously. He massaged his fingers into the back of her scalp before he eventually answered.

"I have none of those things either," he breathed out.

Myra was confused.

She leaned forward and knitted her brows together to determine whether she misheard him.

"What? None of what?" she asked.

"A city. Relatives. Family. Individuals who _truly _care for my well-being…." he breathed out.

Myra felt her eyebrows furrowing, her fingers curling into balled fists. Inwardly, her mind was reeling. She suddenly remembered how upset she had been at him and the reason behind her anger towards him; those words he said. And here he was, wanting to bring it up to her in the most indirect of ways. In a way where he knew she couldn't deny him because he was obviously hurt and suffering. Her eyes roamed over him trying to decide whether planting his head into the wall was a ruse to manipulate her into talking to him. _Was his manic episode just an act? No. He can't be THAT crazy...could he? _

She forced herself to settle on the fact that it didn't matter _why _he smashed his head into the wall; if he did do it because he wanted to talk about 'this' and saw that this was the only way he could get her to do it, then that took a moderate level of physical pain and sacrifice on his part. Even if that was slightly _stupid_ and outright _manipulative, _she couldn't ignore the pains he went through to get to this point. Alternatively, if he did truly suffer a brief manic episode and simply wanted comfort and reassurance through verbal conversation and this was the first thing that came to his mind, who was she to deny him that? He was clearly suffering; those tears in his eyes were real. Despite what she felt about what he had said, seeing him struggle made her want to do whatever she could to ease that suffering even if it meant making allowances and sacrifices on her part.

"That's not true. I care for you, don't I?" Myra asked gently, moving her hand up to gently stroke his cheek.

Bane leaned his head to accept the gentle touch appreciatively, closing his eyes as he did so without giving a verbal reply. Myra watched him and smiled gently, bringing a hand to brush the back of his scalp.

"And while you don't have any family _now, _there's one currently brewing that should arrive here soon in a half dozen months or so. It will be a family member for _both _of us since we both appear to be lacking on that front. We can share that accomplishment together," Myra said with a smile as if she had just said the funniest thing in the universe, her strokes becoming rapid in nature to highlight the excitement she felt when she said something she deemed to be funny. She also was hoping for some sort of positive response from him regarding the matter; he always seemed deflated or dismissive when it came to 'baby' talk.

Bane's brows knitted together as he closed his eyes and turned his head away, looking pained and irritated as if he didn't want to discuss that fact. This made Myra's smile falter, her heart clenching at the brief feeling of hope that perhaps he could be as happy as she was about being pregnant, but his physical display dashed that from her mind. Of course, Bane was simply heartbroken. It was upsetting to be reminded of something he would never be able to experience, and no level of enthusiasm displayed by Myra could change that fact. It made him upset at the world for being so cruel and tormenting and wholly unfair.

Myra waited several moments before breaking the uneasy silence.

"Can I get you anything?" Myra offered again, searching his face for any signs of thirst, hunger, or pain that needed alleviating.

Bane whispered a suggestion out more readily than last time.

"You may list more 'reasons' in that story of yours," Bane offered quietly, his face still coated with moderate pain and exhaustion.

Myra tried suppressing the urge to smirk, but couldn't help one corner of her lips twitching upward. She decided to oblige him by getting up off of the floor and crawling into bed right next to him, pushing at him to scoot further into the bed to make room for her. He happily accommodated her. As soon as Myra was settled up next to him with her chin resting on his chest, she continued.

"She loved how strong his heart was, and how it would audibly speed up sometimes when I - _she_ got near," Myra said as she adjusted her ear to settle over his heart, feeling as if each beat was straining against his skin and up into her ear with a loud 'thump thump thump' noise.

"She liked the way his skin felt against her lips," she said before moving her face upward to give his exposed neck a quick peck with her lips before she repositioned her chin.

"She loved the way he talked with his funny accent and the sounds he made and how his voice could sometimes give her goosebumps."

"She loved how deeply sensitive he was sometimes."

"She liked when he gave her some of his food simply because she ate her own food too damn fast."

"I'm also sure she liked the way he would come up behind her when she was wearing only a shirt and underwear to fishhook both of his fingers along the elastic band over her hips to help straighten out the cloth and get rid of any wedgie that may have formed over her butt almost as if he were affronted by the mere presence of said-wedgie. She liked how casual he did this, almost like he was walking up to her to help straighten out a hypothetical tie," Myra said with a soft reminiscent grin.

"She loved how gentle and soft he could be sometimes despite how rough and abrasive he could be other times."

Myra suddenly stopped as if something suddenly took hold of her lungs, causing her to go rigid. She felt her own eyes begin to coat with moisture. It was so sudden that it startled her and left her gasping in confusion. She quickly wiped away the water knowing she was on the verge of bawling her eyes out, unable to deflect her mind away from the very thing she tried so hard not to think; his meanness. His abrasiveness. Towards _her. _

Bane turned his attention to her after sensing her body going stiff, his expression imploring her for an explanation.

"Why'd you have to say those things...," Myra finally whispered.

Bane gazed at her for several moments before he lifted a hand up to stroke the side of her cheek and cup her ear tenderly.

"I regret it dearly," he said, feeling like his response was wholly inadequate but the heaviness in his chest prevented him from saying more lest he start crumbling and breaking into a thousand pieces. His eyes took on a pained look as he assessed her, heaviness and ache creeping into his chest knowing he was the cause of her tears and anguish.

"You're a huge...bully sometimes," Myra grumbled out as her eyes focused on him for several moments before flickering away.

"That's putting it mildly," Bane said with strained humor, reaching for her face with his hand to massage and coax her into a more comfortable state.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Bane removed his hand from the side of her face. Myra adjusted herself to lie prone alongside him on her side, staring right into his chest as if she were searching and contemplating some deep profound logic. She then spoke again.

"She loved it when, after taking a shower together, he'd gather up her hair and twist it _really _tight to wring out the water for her. She didn't even mind when he accidentally pulled a few hairs in the process," she said.

"She loved the way he smelled."

"She loved the way he cooked."

"She likes the way he played board games with her."

"She loved how _brave _he was. Probably the bravest person she knew."

"She loved the color of his eyes."

"She loved his humor and the way he teased. He could probably work on his jokes, though. Sometimes they were terrible. Especially that stupid one about the old man and the elephant...I still don't get it. It's so stupid."

"She thought when he scrunched his eyebrows together when he was either concentrating or just looking really stern was pretty cute."

"She liked the way during certain movies they watched how his eyes would get all dewy and watery almost like he couldn't handle all of the 'feels' of whatever it is they're watching on screen."

"She liked the way he walks which is almost like a strut. Almost like he owns the damn universe. Maybe he does; he certainly acts like it."

"She loved the way he felt inside her when they made _love_," she teased, rubbing his chest affectionately and letting her fingers linger against his skin.

"She loved how dramatic and theatrical he could get sometimes, almost like he suddenly decided he was acting in a play.'

"She loved how he would speak very delicately, politely, and tender to her despite his tendency to then turn around and speak so abrasively mean and loud to someone else."

"She loved the way his voice would get dramatically high-pitched to mimic her voice when she said or saw something that was super cute even if she knew he was teasing her by doing so."

"She loved the way he would go into detail about a historical fact or detail, even if it probably bored her to tears. He always seemed so passionate about facts, history, and knowledge."

"She loved the way he'd push her to do and be better, either by challenging her or providing her with tools or lessons to help her succeed in her endeavors like recruiting George the tax analyst to teach her tricks of the trade."

"She loved...him," Myra finally finished.

Myra continued to lay there next to him with both of them silent apart from their breathing with hers soft and wispy and his strong, raspy, and mechanical. She fidgeted her hands against his chest for several more moments before she finally put her palms against him to help leverage herself up and away so she could get up. Before Myra properly got up, however, Bane leaned towards her and grabbed her with both of his arms. He then guided her forward to settle her on his chest.

Myra instinctively felt herself giving in to him, settling over him comfortably with her head tucked under the nook of his chin. She settled her hands on his chest, curling her fingers gently against his skin with both of her legs resting between his. Once she was properly settled and adjusted, he grabbed the blanket to tug up over them and then moved both his arms across her back to hold her firmly against his body as if she were one breath away from floating away.

"You shouldn't go to sleep yet…your head is injured…" she protested weakly, the soothing effects of his body making her feel tired and lethargic.

Bane seemed to ignore her protests.

"My head is fine now…I assure you," he said softly but with confidence.

Myra couldn't help but believe his self-diagnosis, his tone both persuasive and convincing. The pull of sleep and comfort was also becoming too much for her as she started feeling drowsy.

"Are you sure…? I don't want to wake up to you in a coma," she mumbled out into his chest.

Bane rubbed his hand along her back reassuringly.

"I promise that won't happen," he said with sincerity.

And with that said, they both went into a comfortable, peaceful sleep.

* * *

**Author: Wooo sooo cloooose to the neutron bomb explosion! Also, don't forget to review! :D **


	17. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 17**_

_**Author: I. AM. SO. SORRY. THIS. TOOK. SO. LOOOOOOOOONG. AHHHH. Thank you all for being extremely patient - and a special thank you to those that took the time to leave reviews! Your reviews are 100% a huge motivator for getting these chapters published. I love hearing what you think of the story - and I also love hearing complaints that I'm taking too long with the next chapter :D It makes me go, "Oh crap I better hurry!" Hahah! I apologize this chapter was CRAZY delayed due to life things happening. I hope everyone is hunkered down, healthy, and safe at home during these weird times! Also, a HUUUUUGEEEE thank you to Andrea for editing this chapter :3 I owe you so much! You're amazing! THE BEST EDITOR EVER!**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.**_

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 2 days

The tension that had permeated the air within the penthouse for the past several days had evaporated and was instead replaced with a sense of urgency mingled with an odd sense of relief from Bane. His relief, strangely, wasn't due to the fact that everything was going according to plan in regard to the neutron bomb explosion. While knowing he wouldn't have to urgently see to last-minute distractions that would take him away from the penthouse (specifically, Myra) did ease his mind, his mental state was strongly influenced by the dissolution of the emotional barrier between him and Myra.

Bane escalated in settling and resolving several of his business affairs so that he could spend more time with her as the explosive day loomed. On this particular day, Bane was determined to have all of his procedures and plans for the 'big day' run smoothly. This meant he had to excuse himself from the penthouse for a predominant portion of the day. This didn't prevent him from making quick periodic drop-ins back to the top floor luxury suite where both he and Myra cohabitated. He stayed just long enough for him to quickly hone-in on Myra's location within the suite, aggressively march towards her, and snatch her up quickly with considerable force and abruptness. He held her firmly in place against his chest while she settled from her startlement before eventually fully processing what was happening. He held her close against his body for several long moments, slowly breathing into the fine hairs at the top of her head before depositing her back down and making his way back outside to continue his work just as abruptly as he came. Myra blinked and resettled from her shock and confusion at feeling like she got caught up in a whirlwind tornado attack. She would stare at his departure point for a few seconds before going back to whatever activity she had been doing before being interrupted so spontaneously, displaying the same level of confusion and awe the next time he came in - usually only an hour or two later - to repeat his affections.

Myra loved these frequent, quick spurts of affection, but it also made her worry for reasons she couldn't initially comprehend. Then she realized what it was; he reminded her of someone who was diving underwater without oxygen and making quick periodic breaks to the surface to fill his lungs with air before diving back down. It was almost as if he were unsure of when the next time would be when he could fill his lungs with life-giving oxygen; as if he were a man who could feel water slowly filling his lungs because he was trapped underwater with nowhere else to go, but wanting nothing more than to keep living; to keep _breathing_. It made her uncomfortable though she knew it shouldn't. He certainly wasn't _drowning_.

Bane eventually returned late in the evening looking tired and exhausted. Not too tired to prepare dinner, however. As he was preparing them food in the kitchen, he spoke to her idly over his shoulder.

"Pack a few things for tomorrow. We're going away for the night," he said casually.

Myra's attention perked up from the light trance she had been in.

"What? We are? Where are we going?" she asked with mild skepticism.

She couldn't help the internal defensive barrier erupting around her. She knew what happened last time Bane had coerced her into the false pretenses of a 'trip'. She didn't want to be fooled again. At least she would be ready this time. She _did _already have all of her things packed in a bag just outside the front door.

Bane didn't look up from the food he was slowly stirring.

"It's a surprise. You'll have to wait until tomorrow," he said in a mildly teasing tone while he dished out their dinner on plates.

As Bane turned and put a plate in front of her, he saw where her mind was racing off to and nipped it in the bud immediately.

"This is not a ploy. I promised you that we would go someplace just the two of us, did I not? Granted, you desired for us to venture off somewhere _post _Gotham...I hope you will forgive me for altering that little detail," Bane said as he gave her an affectionate rub behind her shoulders before he went and sat down.

Myra looked up at him as he said this, feeling nothing but sincerity coming from him. This eased her mind considerably. She let out a tired but relieved sigh and dug into her food, curiosity consuming her brain as to where he was going to take them the following day.

After their meal, Myra urged him to stay seated in his chair so that she could go grab the first aid kit and change his forehead bandage caused by him planting his head into the hallway wall. Bane sat obediently while Myra ran from the kitchen to grab the first-aid supplies. When she came back, she stood between his spread legs, using her hands to assist in removing his mask before her fingers explored and prodded the wound searching for any signs of infection before changing the dressing. Bane stared at her with intent fascination as she did this, bringing both of his hands up to rest on either side of her hips. Myra did her best to try and ignore his intense gaze and the gentle periodic squeezes from his hands on her hips.

She finished cleaning his small wound and replaced it with a bandage before grabbing his head between her hands to cap the wound-dressing ceremony with a gentle kiss to expedite the healing process. Bane continued to stare with unwavering focus, his hands still planted firmly against her hips, his expression transitioning into passive laziness implying how he thoroughly enjoyed the special treatment and comfort Myra provided. When she was done and moved to take a step back, Bane didn't let her leave. His hands began to roam up her sides before ensnaring her, locking her in a loose hug and drawing her in close so that he could bury his naked face directly into her chest. Myra relented, wrapping both of her arms around his bald head and leaned down to shower the top of his shiny domed head with more soft delicate kisses while he took deep appreciative breaths against her chest directly between her breasts. She grinned at his grabby and clingy display, but eventually his need to put the mask back on became too great; his body suddenly became rigid and still with pain and he reached for his mask with unmistakable reluctance.

* * *

Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 1 days

Myra couldn't help but feel cautiously optimistic the following morning at the prospect of a trip with Bane out of the city. Bane, on the other hand, was experiencing what he could only perceive to be some level of 'anxiety'. He did not look forward to having to call Talia to inform her of the seemingly impromptu trip he had planned, particularly since the neutron bomb explosion was set to go off the following day and complications were expected to arise. Almost as if on cue, Bane received a phone call from Talia essentially easing the burden on him of having to contact her first.

"I'm meeting with Lucius Fox in an hour. Apparently, Commissioner Gordon is assembling individuals together and Lucius is bringing me to them. Now is the perfect opportunity to rid ourselves of Gordon," Talia said.

"What would you have me do?" Bane questioned with mild skepticism. Talia continued, appearing to either ignore or fail to detect his skepticism.

"I'm coordinating an ambush with Barsad and several of our men to help bring him in. They will need to be judged at the courthouse. You will need to be there for the judgement and to extract me from Crane's judgement," Talia said.

Bane was silent for several seconds as he processed what was being said to him. He had hoped to depart earlier in the day for his trip with Myra, but knew that was impossible given the news that Talia just gave him.

"Very well," Bane said, deciding now was not the ideal time to tell Talia of his intent to temporarily leave Gotham as he disconnected the call.

* * *

Bane left Myra several hours later in the penthouse building to go and attend to the sordid business of dealing with Commissioner Gordon and Talia. He wasted no time making his way straight to the courthouse to oversee the judgement proceedings. He stood back behind the crowd of onlookers and hecklers to rest comfortably against a large stone pillar, knotting a paracord string he pulled from his pocket with idle proficiency. It wasn't long before Commissioner Gordon, Lucius Fox, Talia, and several other officers made their way to stand in front of Crane for judgement at the courthouse.

"No lawyer? No witnesses? What sort of due process is this?" Commissioner Gordon shouted to Crane.

"Your guilt has been determined. This is merely a sentencing hearing. Now, what will it be? Death...or exile?" Crane retorted, lifting a brow.

"Crane, if you think we're going out onto that ice willingly...you have another thing coming," Commissioner Gordon said defiantly.

Crane nodded, taking in Gordon's words with seeming empathy.

"Death, then," Crane said almost reluctantly before lifting his shoulders up nonchalantly.

"Looks that way!" Gordon shouted back.

"Very well. Death...by exile," Crane said with a loud bang from his judge hammer followed by cheers erupting from the boisterous crowd of criminals, riff-raff, Bane's men, and thugs.

Bane's men rushed forward to grab hold of Gordon, Fox, Talia, and a handful of other officers under Gordon's command. This prompted Bane to speak up from his spot in the back against the cement pillar.

"Bring her to me," Bane said with a mild flick of his finger to indicate Talia, his concentration focused downward at the paracord knot he was idly tying.

Barsad grabbed Talia aggressively and dragged her towards Bane. Talia gave him a sideways glance as an indicator that he didn't need to be so aggressive. Barsad ignored her.

Bane and Barsad began leading Talia to a holding area further within the courthouse with other captives too valuable for disposal. They didn't say a word to each other, and the somewhat aggressive-looking shove by Barsad as he corralled Talia into the holding area marked by barbed wire, barriers, and guards was a bit too convincing. Talia gave Barsad a piercing glare that also seemed perhaps a bit too genuine as she juggled with playing the parts of Miranda Tate and Talia al Ghul.

Bane gave Talia one last glance before he and his men proceeded to exit outside. They made their way to the frozen water's edge where people were forced to grapple with the reality that they must walk across the frozen ice or get shot.

Bane was surprised to see that it was already dark out; time seemed to have slipped away from him. The day had dragged on much longer than he had anticipated. He had such precious little time left; he could almost feel the sands of time flowing down the back of his neck as if from a physical hourglass. He felt a slight chill that he didn't directly attribute to the cold brisk air. He made his way up to the roof of an abandoned building where he and several of his men could enjoy the spectacle of the 'judged' being escorted onto the ice from a distance.

Bane stood there occupied with his thoughts until he saw movement far below as Commissioner Gordon and his men were escorted to the edge of the ice. Bane waited patiently as several of his men prompted Gordon and his men forward onto the ice with fearful haste by spraying a burst of bullets over their heads.

Gordon was the first out onto the ice, eying it reluctantly but having the composure of a man who was resigned to his fate. The ice immediately began crunching underfoot.

Gordon and his men continued to walk reluctantly forward onto the ice, trying to keep a moderate distance amongst them. They slowly became more emboldened and sure-footed as it became apparent that the ice wasn't ready to give way underneath them quite yet.

Gordon spotted a red flare on the ice in front of him, and bent down curiously to pick it up. He handled it in his hands until suddenly he heard a gruff but familiar voice.

"Light it up," the Batman said.

Gordon quickly looked up into the darkness in front of him, squinting momentarily before obediently discharging the flare. The light of the flare helped illuminate the figure of Batman who slowly approached Gordon and his men. Gordon then dropped the flare onto the ground, immediately spreading a thin fire trail away from them on the ice until it began climbing the base of the bridge.

The large fiery shape of the bat signal that erupted was unmistakable.

"Impossible," Bane said with frustrated amusement as he saw the large fiery bat signal take shape on the bridge. He huffed out an aggravated huff before turning to one of his men to issue an order.

"Keep her close. He'll come for her," Bane said, not needing to indicate that he meant "Talia" when he said "her".

Bane paused to observe the bat signal for several moments as he processed the events playing out in front of him. He then let out a frustrated huff before he proceeded to make his way back to the courthouse to rendezvous with Talia, who was relocated to a private office within the courthouse.

"He's back," was all Bane said as he entered the room to the sight of Talia sitting comfortably behind an abandoned desk.

"I know," Talia said with just a subtle hint of pleasure in her tone, compulsively swirling back and forth slowly in the office chair she was sitting in.

Bane narrowed his gaze, absorbing her reaction as well as the fact that she already 'knew'. He decided it didn't matter how she knew; all he cared about was the agitation he was suddenly feeling at the dwindling hours left in the day. It had been dark out for some time and he wasn't even sure what the hour was. He allowed his agitation to propel his next statement.

"I'm going to be absent for the rest of the evening. I'll be back before afternoon tomorrow," Bane said.

This piqued Talia's interest.

"Oh? Where are you slinking off to?" Talia mused, the pleasure that had masked her tone previously now replaced with annoyance.

"I'm making an impromptu trip just south of here. I'll be taking a plane. It is not business related," Bane said, feeling that the less details Talia knew the better.

Talia looked him over before replying.

"With _her?"_ she queried, her annoyance unmistakable.

Bane didn't hesitate with a reply.

"Of course," he said, feeling the sudden need to assert his confidence.

Talia's eyes narrowed as she processed what it was that Bane just told her. She continued to look him over for several long moments before she suddenly shrugged her shoulders as if suddenly indifferent to the whole ordeal.

"Fine. I'd like to see you off on your departure. Ensure everything is according to plan and to coordinate any last plans if needed," Talia said.

Bane gave her a glare. He knew there was no need for her to be at the tarmac to see them off. He could sense an ulterior motive. He also knew well enough that if he denied her request, then he would most likely find it much more difficult to follow through with his plans on leaving for the evening.

"Agreed. We will be there within the hour," Bane said before he turned abruptly from the room to make his way hastily back to the penthouse building.

It was just a short time later before Bane quickly stormed into the penthouse building, immediately diving for the travel bags that had been set next to the door.

"We're leaving. Now," Bane said quickly without so much as looking up at the very startled Myra who was looking shell-shocked from her comfortable position on the recliner in the living room, her neck craned to gawk at his sudden appearance.

When she didn't immediately move, he lifted his chin to give her a stern gaze.

"Now. _Move_," he said gruffly, shaking one of the bags in her direction for emphasis.

Myra complied immediately, but started fretting.

"I need to change quickly...I'm still in my pajamas…" she fussed.

"No. That doesn't matter. We need to leave now. _MOVE_, " Bane all but shouted.

Myra lifted her brows at his rudeness, and slowed her movements just slightly as a retaliatory gesture to his behavior as she shuffled her feet towards him to the door. He lurched forward and herded her out the door by pushing one of the bags at her back when it was apparent that she wasn't moving quite fast enough for his liking.

"Hey...watch it….I've been feeling nauseous lately…." Myra griped, referring to her bouts of recent morning sickness. Bane ignored her complaints, feeling that he was being ample gentle enough.

They made their way to a vehicle that dropped them off at a tunnel just outside the perimeter of Gotham. From there, they make their way to a secret underground cavern that had obviously been well hidden and isolated to prevent individuals from escaping in and out of Gotham freely. Myra realizes that Bane and his men must have used this tunnel system to get in and out of Gotham. Once outside of the tunnel, there was another vehicle waiting for them that they drove some distance before making their way to a private air tarmac. Myra recognized it from when she was allowed to make supply runs. She spots several planes, and sees one in particular that appeared to be ready for take-off.

As Myra exited the vehicle, she immediately recognized Steve the pilot who had accompanied her as her co-pilot when she did inventory runs for Bane. He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the interior plane that was parked just at the end of the airstrip. She makes her way towards the plane with Bane leading the way with their bags slung over his shoulder. Her attention immediately gets diverted, however, when she sees another person intercept their path to the plane.

_Talia. _

Myra immediately hides behind Bane, peering around his body to look at her as if Talia was on the verge of simply lashing out and cutting her throat. Talia doesn't make a move to try and get closer to Myra; she just grins in amusement at Myra's seemingly cowardly and shy demeanor.

"I hope you two lovebirds enjoy yourselves," Talia offers.

Bane just stares at her, knowing that she didn't take the trouble to travel to meet with them just to tell them _that. _

Talia's eyes shift to Myra.

"Ahh. I was informed of the bruising you suffered on your face. I see they have healed nicely; it would have been a pity if Bane left permanent damage. I told Bane to go easy on you with his punishment over that whole 'Special Forces' fiasco. Bane can be_ so_ clumsy sometimes. Obviously he's never hurt _me _like that, but I can imagine...…"

Bane didn't speak up to shoot down the blatant lies. He instead narrowed his eyes at Talia. How did she even know Myra was wounded? Who was this creature in front of him, trying to stampede over him and create havoc and pain? Why was Talia acting this way? Why did she feel the need to assert herself in this manner? When did she turn into this? Did he nurture her into acting this way? Did he enable her into acting this way? Where was the little girl he saved in prison all those years ago for whom he would have ripped his heart out? For whom he had agreed to sacrifice his life?

_Obviously, he's never hurt her like that? Why was that obvious? Because I don't matter? People don't hurt the people they love. Because he loves Talia - genuinely loves her - and only plays at loving me? _

There that feeling was again. That feeling of being small. Second-hand. The exact opposite of special. Imposter.

Myra was already feeling nauseous, but Talia's comment was the small weighted grain that tipped the scale. Myra leaned off to the side to expunge her dinner onto the tarmac. Bane turned towards Myra quickly and tried to lean down and offer her some consolation by resting a hand on her back but his hand was promptly brushed away.

"Ah...morning sickness. Or should I say _evening _sickness? I hear it's one more of the more annoying aspects of being pregnant. Speaking of which, it's a shame _I _was never able to conceive when Bane and I were trying ourselves. After months of vigorous attempts, we eventually discovered Bane's medical handicap affected his fertility. Oh, pardon me; I apologize - I _am _correct in assuming it's your child, Bane?" Talia said, giving Bane a pointed seemingly lighthearted jovial look.

Myra's eyes bulged, quickly flicking to Bane. She had no idea Bane told Talia about her being pregnant. She assumed Bane had told _no_ one. Barsad didn't even know. Bane continued to stare at Talia. She felt violated. Like she no longer had any sense of privacy.

Myra gawked. It sounded like a blatant lie. She quickly shifted her eyes to Bane for confirmation. Bane's lack of refute to her comment made her heart sink.

Bane knew what she was doing. Trying to instill doubt into his brain. Bane knew Myra wasn't free with her affections. It wasn't as if she had access to men to even make attempts at having an affair under his nose. It was usually only him and Barsad.

_Barsad. _

The culmination of inklings that perhaps there could have been an affair between Barsad and Myra suddenly flooded Bane's brain like the time nude photos of Myra were stored on Barsad's phone which at first he wrote off simply as remnants of Barsad capturing evidence of her antics to send to Bane so he could handle it accordingly. _But what if there was more to it?_ Like the time Bane caught Myra and Barsad engaged in what looked like a romantic encounter while she was still recovering; he had sworn Myra was a second away from making contact with Barsad's lips. Her hands were even on his face in a very familiar manner. _What if I hadn't walked in at that very moment? _Or what about Barsad's heated and uncharacteristic indignant reaction to Bane attempting to spirit Myra away, even going so far as to try and intercede; something very uncharacteristic of Barsad, who almost always had a tendency to stand by and watch detached and unempathetic, regardless of the horror Bane was involved in.

Bane turned towards Myra to gauge her reaction. It was obvious her mind was preoccupied with processing it all. She looked like she was trying to hold back tears and more vomit so that Talia wouldn't see either reaction that could be misconstrued as weakness.

_Medical handicap? Why didn't he tell me? Of course, she knows and I don't. He never tells me anything. I'm not worth it. _

Talia gave both Bane and Myra one final glance, pleased with the results her words had on the two before she began to lazily saunter off.

When Talia was finally out of ear and eyeshot, Myra finally spoke. It was remarkable she was even able to speak coherently, despite the rage and tears ready to erupt from her eyes.

"You...you two _talked...discussed..._about what kind of _punishment _to give me? Like I was some pet of yours – _like_ a _dog_ \- that defecated on the family room carpet?" Myra said, clearly uncomfortable and also very clearly upset.

Bane didn't respond, his eyebrows knitted together as he continued to internalize Myra and Barsad.

"That's...so..wrong," she muttered. "It's sick. _SICK," _she shouted as her eyes flashed in disdain.

Bane simply stared, unable to respond.

_Talia knows secrets about me, but I don't know any secrets about her. It's like they congregate together to talk about me. Talk about how to 'deal' with me. How to punish me. How to 'handle' my pregnancy probably like I'm just a dumb, mute spectator who doesn't know any better. _

"Why did you tell her I was pregnant? That was supposed to be between _us_. No one knows - not even _Barsad _knows," Myra mumbled, finding no real good reason for why Talia should have been informed of the news other than the fact that, of course, Bane tells her _everything _and Myra _nothing. _This notion made her livid like she was a third wheel in a bicycle that had no real need for it; it just ended up being a burden that got dragged behind.

Myra's question seemed to rile Bane into a reaction.

"Is there a _reason _Barsad should know?" Bane asked indignantly with his voice low and curt, giving her a heated glare.

Myra rounded on him, confused at his sudden indignation. His indignation made her angrier; he wasn't _allowed _to get angry or offended since he was the one very clearly in the wrong.

Then realization sunk in.

_He thinks I slept with Barsad._

This implied that he was taking Talia's implication to heart. Myra wasn't sure if she should feel sad or angry. She ended up feeling both. She turned her head away from him so she could focus on the internal combustion of emotion currently taking place inside her head. She felt like she was going to explode.

"How. _DARE._ You_," _Myra suddenly burst out at him as she rounded on him, her emotional state clearly transitioning into outright rage. She had never felt so insulted, isolated, and alone in her life.

"You just made me feel so small,_ filthy,_ and insignificant. Like I was worthless garbage. You just _stood_ there while she said those things - _implied _those things - about _me. _Like I'm some promiscuous whore. And you believed her. Believed her enough to pointedly _ask _me whether there was a 'reason' _Barsad _should know I'm pregnant. Because you would believe her over me without hesitation - without even _THINKING. _Like the culmination of our shared experiences means nothing to you. I know you have more shared experiences with _her..._and I'll never be as important as she is to you...but...still...I…." Myra suddenly trailed off.

Myra paused as if she were trying to find the words she wanted to say, but was unable to do so and ended up just looking defeated, angry, and frustrated.

"I can't believe you just asked me that. How dare you," Myra finally mumbled, turning away from him as if she couldn't stomach looking at him any longer.

Bane knew he had made a big mistake. He wished he could take a few steps back and retract his question. He knew he had dug himself into a hole that no words or affections could rectify. Going off of her anger, her reaction, and re-analyzing and possibility of Barsad being the father, Bane deemed it highly unlikely and even borderline absurd that Myra and Barsad were romantically involved. He then realized that Talia had only pointedly asked that question to instill rage and doubt in both him and Myra. She was, of course, successful.

Myra was visibly shaking with rage. She couldn't hold it in. She was ready to burst.

Her shivering and shaking eventually cooled down. _I need to get a hold of myself. Get a grip. Fix this. Fix this situation. I don't need to be here. I don't need to be here. I don't need to be in this situation. With him. With her. _

Myra released a strained breath through her lungs, bringing a hand up to rub her eyes as if she were rubbing the emotional exhaustion right out of them. She turned herself away from him, scanning the horizon as if she were on the verge of setting sail both physically and emotionally.

"This is not the life I want. This is so far removed from the life I had imagined for myself. The way you just treated me and made me feel...was just...too much. I hate the constant reminder that I'm only ever a second thought and not even remotely a priority in your life. I fall second - which in this situation, is _last. _I'm exhausted and tired of always being last in your life," Myra said.

When Bane moved to speak, Myra shot him down. "No more of your words. I'm _done _with you explaining and rationalizing yourself."

"She was right. I was only ever a plaything and...you actually _wanted_ to have a child with her - _tried _to have a child with her. My pregnancy always seemed like an unfortunate burden to you. I thought I could overlook your indifference and perhaps focus on my own happiness instead, knowing you were pushing me into thinking of it as 'my' baby instead of '_our' _baby...unlike...you and Talia...Hearinghow you were with..._her..._makes me realize just how low and insignificant I am," Myra said.

Bane's eyes grew sad at Myra's interpretation of his actions towards her pregnancy.

"You once made me feel stupid and ignorant for assuming that you and Talia had once been lovers, like that idea was _ridiculous. _I now know the only thing ridiculous is you and this situation," Myra continued.

"I can only imagine what other things you've managed to mislead me about. Do you and Talia have this sordid dance every city you two visit? Where you find a plaything, and flaunt her under Talia's nose and then just dispose of whatever girl you kidnap at the end like a discarded used up toy? 'I've only ever kissed you' I remember you saying. I _ate that up _like a blinded simpering _IDIOT," _Myra fumed, her teeth audibly clenching.

She continued to stare off away from him, working her lips, squinting her eyes, before she continued. Bane was, for one of the very first real times in his life, utterly speechless.

"I should have gotten into the car when you gave me the chance. I see now how stupid I was for missing that opportunity. I regret it. I regret it very much...," Myra continued to mumble.

Myra brought her hands up in a mock-defensive gesture as if she was perfectly capable of excusing herself from the crowded room that had one too many people.

"Don't worry - you don't have to 'dispose' of me. No car or plane is necessary. I have legs. I can walk," Myra mumbled as if she had just agreed to partake in a very great chore that no one else on her hypothetical imaginary team volunteered for.

Despite everything, Myra couldn't find herself maintaining her anger, just sadness. An immense amount of grief and sadness that almost took her breath away. She knew the look Talia gave her- a clear threat of "He's mine". Myra wasn't a competitive person, especially when confronted with a Goddess-like creature. And because she is pregnant, she didn't have the luxury of risking the life of her child in the hopes that Talia didn't end up killing her. She knew she had to leave; if not for herself, then at least for the child growing inside of her. She thought of Bane. The love of her life. She felt even sadder; wasn't she supposed to fight for him? Wasn't that how this worked? Why was she suddenly depleted of all will and energy to fight for him? Was it this newfound level of protectiveness she felt over something growing inside her; something that didn't even have a name, gender, or identity yet? Didn't she want to stay with him? He brought her so much happiness...but this wasn't happiness she was feeling. Despite what Talia said about him, she couldn't bring herself to hate him. She just knew she had to get away from him. But most of all,_ her_. It was obvious to her that Bane and Talia were an inseparable unit and she knew she couldn't play that game.

She felt pathetic for giving up and rolling over so easily; but honest to God what else could she do? _Nothing._Nothing that wouldn't risk her life - _their _life. She just wished Bane saw the threat in front of him and saw Talia as the true threat against Myra's life that she saw; or perhaps he saw it and just didn't care. The mere whisper of that thought in her mind propelled her feet into action. It propelled her into finally taking control of herself and not simply being a backseat rider with Bane always at the steering wheel.

Without another word, she walked off, not even giving him a second glance. Bane was still too shocked and in the throes of processing her words to realize her sudden departure. He quickly moved towards her, grabbing her arm.

"What are you doing?" he asked hurriedly.

Myra stopped and turned her head to calmly look at the hand holding her arm.

"Walking. I'm leaving. She clearly doesn't want me around. Why fight it? We all know she's going to win, with me probably dead. I know I might sometimes skim along the edges of having a lack of self-preservation, but _my child _doesn't deserve this. I know I can do better than this," Myra mumbled in heated sass before she began tugging to reclaim her arm from his grip, her lips working together as if on the verge of screaming into his face.

Myra felt surprisingly strong and determined despite the flow of water that seemed to stream down her cheeks. She stood erect and her eyes were shining and bright with her lip stuck out just slightly to emphasize her determined mindset. She was sticking up for herself amongst the presence of two individuals who could snuff her out in a heartbeat. She was taking back control.

Myra figured Bane had enough pride in his belly to not want her to scream for fear of Talia hearing it, which would of course incite some level of amusement out of her. She very clearly had a purpose for coming out here; and to Myra it seemed that she was successful in whatever it was she hoped to achieve. Myra didn't even care that she may have fallen into whatever emotional trapTalia had set out for her. She simply couldn't take the emotional strain of the ups and downs that seemed to be a constant the past few days. She could feel her heart putting pressure on her chest, screaming at her to run away and hide, to remove herself from the situation that was causing her so much distress and anxiety.

Bane couldn't respond; his mind was in a fog. Part of him swelled with pride, thoroughly impressed and grateful for Myra's swell of confidence and protectiveness concerning herself, her body, and their baby. The other part of him was utterly devastated that she thought he was one of the reasons why she needed to metaphorically raise her hackles, bare her teeth, and summon up the natural urges to protect herself in her vulnerable pregnant state. He could practically see the hair on her arms standing erect, her eyes flashing sharp daggers at him, taking on an unusually aggressive feral glint like a cornered cat. When Bane didn't immediately remove his hand from her arm, Myra's expression transitioned into a look that simply indicated she was one breath away from screaming. This, of course, incited the hasty removal of his hand. He stood there, shocked.

Bane felt the ground - _his world -_ crumbling beneath him as Myra turned her head away from him and continued in the direction she had been so intently set on walking towards. Bane slowly clenched and unclenched his fists, his brain desperately scrambling to solve the complex puzzle of his circumstances. He knew he had very few options afforded him and even fewer still that could resolve this hellish nightmare. His focus was mildly diverted as he detected another set of eyes patiently gazing at him. He turned his head slowly back to Talia.

Talia had her arms crossed over her chest with one leg jutted out forward from her casual stance a dozen or so yards away. The faintest evidence of a pleased smile formed on her lips as her eyes took in the spectacle. Without another word, Bane stormed in her direction.

Talia stood her ground passively as Bane approached her, expecting him to simply fall in line and perhaps march past her in a huff as was customary in any of their past disagreements or disputes. The expression that coated Bane's face indicated he had business that needed to be urgently dealt with. Talia assumed this look was his attempt at refocusing on any business he needed to address; that he simply decided to dismiss Myra deeming her and her complications exhausting and pointless. She read him poorly.

Bane eclipsed Talia with his own body and wrapped his very large arm around her neck as he circled around her, giving her no time for a proper reaction. He squeezed his arm in a manner that secured his hold just above her collarbone and in front of her neck. His other arm actively repelled and blocked the vigorous onslaught that ensued from Talia's hands as Bane simply began dragging her in the direction of Myra's retreating figure.

This sort of manhandling, of course, was not pleasant. It was like being strung up to a noose considering how tall Bane was compared to Talia. It forced her to try and find her footing under her unless she wanted to begin choking and lose oxygen, which was exactly what Talia was experiencing. Bane's other hand continued to actively wrangle and deflect Talia's hands and arms, ignoring her verbal choking and sputtering as well as her attempts at disengaging from him. Talia's hands could have very well been pesky mosquitoes the way Bane seemed to be affected by them. He continued to casually smack and swat away her hands as they juggled between holding herself up and trying to disengage from his arm.

As Bane was dragging her, he whispered into her ear.

"There's no_ reason _for this behavior of yours_. _I've done nothing to deserve this disgusting behavior from you. I've done everything you've ever asked me to you not wish me to feel some semblance of comfort and love as I experience my last days of life here on earth? What_ happened _to you? Where is the Talia that I know and love? That sweet innocence that I saved and sacrificed everything for? Do you _even remember _the comfort I provided you_? _What I sacrificed to save you from? I've given you _everything _I have to offer. _Everything_. I've even agreed to sacrifice my _life_ for you. What more do you want from me? Truly? _Her? _Well, you can't have her," Bane sneered and seethed.

Bane's questions were rhetorical of course, for the firm pressure he had around her neck prevented her from properly responding to his queries. She did respond physically, however. She wasn't simply someone with an average amount of defensive maneuvers; she was properly trained in the League of Shadows. After detecting Bane's head leaning in closer to her ear and following his statement to her, she quickly jabbed at him in one of his eyes and swung her leg back expertly to kick him in a location that would most certainly immobilize him.

If Bane were a lesser man, he'd have immediately let her go from the affect her strikes to his face and groin had on his nervous system. He didn't let go, instead, he fought through the throbbing shock and after clearing his mind, shook her aggressively as a clear indicator that if she tried something like that again he'd be less gentle with his handling of her. He also regained control of her arms and twisted them behind her back none-too-gently, giving out a very disagreeable grunt into the back of her scalp.

Bane was efficient and speedy with his efforts, catching up to Myra in no time. The hold he had on Talia seemed as casual as if he were simply dragging along a chopped-down Christmas tree ready to be placed into a tree stand and strung up with ornaments and lights. Despite the seeming pacificity of his actions and mannerisms, the hold he had on Talia and his expression was solid, fierce, and unwavering.

Myra had stopped in her tracks and turned around to determine what was the verbal coughing and sputtering sounds she heard behind her. Myra's eyes were red and puffy from her emotions catching up to her, but also large and curious. Bane gave Talia a massive drag and propped her up about a dozen feet away from Myra as if he were displaying the prized evergreen tree he found in the forest that would make the perfect addition to their living room decorations for the holiday season. He lowered his arm slightly so that Talia could find her footing. Talia immediately began coughing, her eyes watery and unfocused. While Myra was still most definitely angry and seemingly inconsolable, seeing Talia manhandled so aggressively did help. A little bit. Okay, a _lot. _

Bane only gave Talia a few seconds of recovery before he immediately began asking her questions.

"Talia. I am going to ask you several questions and I would appreciate an honest reply from you. Understood?" Bane asked.

When Talia didn't immediately respond, Bane readjusted his arm around her neck which constricted her windpipe, cutting off her oxygen. This caused her to sputter and choke out again, followed by the motion of her furiously slapping her hand against his forearm as well as wildly nodding.

"If you kill me, you both will die too. You'll be _hunted_," Talia spat out furiously after she had finally regained her breath, all of the sweetness and charm removed from her voice.

"Oh, I'm aware of the fail-safe plans and spying eyes you keep targeted on me. I would be disappointed if you hadn't set up such precautions. Regardless, I only have a few questions for you, if you please...," Bane responded with charming courtesy that didn't match his physical actions then got right down to it.

"Have we ever engaged in a kiss?" Bane asked curiously, lightheartedly.

Talia seemed to pause from that question, almost unsure of what to say as if confused by the question and the importance of it.

"No...you can't," she spat out.

"We've _never _kissed? Why's that?" Bane asked.

Talia seemed annoyed with the question, as if Bane were simply teasing her with annoying nonsense.

"Because you'd have to take your mask off," Talia responded, still seeming to find the questions ridiculous as if she were stating the obvious.

"Hmm curious," Bane replied, looking down at Talia before flickering his eyes to Myra's. Myra's eyes were large and confused, but she looked away somewhat bashfully when she noticed Bane studying her for a reaction.

"One more question. Who's idea was it to conceive a child?" Bane asked.

"Ours," Talia responded smoothly.

The grip around Talia's neck tightened just slightly, but it was enough for Talia to reconsider her answer.

"..._mine_," Talia sputtered out in agitation. Bane eased his grip after hearing the truthful, satisfying answer.

"When it was discovered that it was difficult - _not impossible _\- for me to conceive children, did we continue with acts of intercourse?" Bane asked curiously.

Talia furrowed her brows, not caring for the fact that her web of doubts and uncomfortableness that she had expertly woven into Myra's brain started to unravel.

"No," she said.

"Hmm, curious. That almost implies that you were simply interested in having a child; not necessarily having relations with _me_. That would be a safe assumption, yes?" Bane said as he dug further with his questions.

Talia remained silent, simply glaring like a wet half-drowned cat. Bane eased his arm around her neck as if he were on the verge of letting her go, but quickly sucked it back in as if he just remembered something.

"Ah. My apologies. One more thing. Regarding the 'Special Forces' incident...you had ordered me to kill Myra, did you not?

"Yes," Talia fumed.

"It appears that I refused your order and instead diverted the majority of my aggressions to the Special Forces officers themselves. It is true, I punished Myra in my own way and there isn't a moment that I don't dearly regret it," Bane said as sadness filled his tone.

He peered up at Myra with clear shame, his eyebrows lifting as his features lightened, his eyes roaming over Myra's face. Myra gazed back at him bashfully, her eyes unable to maintain the same stoic hold of his as her eyes began to dart around in embarrassment after several seconds. His eyebrows eventually furrowed as he refocused on the task at hand.

"My account seems to conflict with your recollection of events somewhat. I even remember refusing to partake in this 'Gotham plan' of yours. If anything were to happen to Myra here in the event that you felt the need to deliver justice with your own hands after witnessing me..._someone you consider your subordinate_...being so brazenly and uncharacteristically disobedient," Bane continued.

Talia didn't respond with anything verbal, though the smugness slowly began to seep into her features as pride eventually took over, disallowing her to look like the victim in this scenario.

Bane waited several very long moments before he finally let Talia go. He knew there would be repercussions. The look Talia gave him as she peered over her shoulder when she stalked off was not pleasant. She was devious. Vengeful. Bane, however, was very limited with the options before him and he could think of no other way to resolve this situation. He knew he'd just have to deal with whatever repercussions Talia had in store for him when the time came. There wasn't anything he could do about it and he was at his wit's end, which was a considerable feat for Bane.

Bane turned towards Myra with an agitated huff. Bane observed the faintest evidence of a snicker on Myra's lips but it quickly vanished when Bane focused his attention on her. He let his eyes roam over her for a few seconds as if he were calculating his next itemized plan of attack. She was just shuffling her feet and fidgeting with her fingers in her customary show of mild embarrassment and awkwardness. Bane waited several more minutes of her shuffling and eye wandering before he transitioned into directing his energy into driving a very important message into her.

"Is your assumption that I value my time so little that I would go through such elaborate schemes to simply _dispose _of someone? I've seen the look you've given me; you know what I'm capable of. _You've seen me act the villain. _Would I not simply _grind _you into oblivion and discard your remains into the nearest dumpster if I truly wanted myself rid of you? I have no time for meaningless _games_ with silly _playthings,_" Bane sneered.

Myra's eyes flashed at his insinuation that he would perhaps dispose of her so unceremoniously and that he also perhaps thought of _her _as a silly plaything. Bane immediately picked up on her distorted internal misunderstanding, angry at the wrong narrative she always seemed to settle on. He continued on with his rant, fueled by his anger over Myra's disappointed look that settled over her face toppled with this whole situation.

"You. Are. Not. A. _BLASTED_. '_Plaything', _he raged, emphasizing his point by bringing up a forefinger to prod Myra's forehead to emphasize each word. Myra swatted agitatedly at his hand, ducking her head away from his bullish behavior.

"Get that _ludicrous _notion out of that thick skull of yours or _I will do it for you. _Do you have the impression that I hold no feelings for you? Or perhaps that I only keep you around for a generous shag? There is more to us than simple primal urges. If that's all I wanted, why wouldn't I just go fuck one of those whores that frequently loiter our building and be done with it? Far be it from me to be logical, but wouldn't that be _SIGNIFICANTLY _more convenient for me to seek _that _type of feminine companionship if that was all I truly desired? Heaven knows things would be much simpler for me and less burdensome because despite the hundreds - _thousands - _of men under my command in a diseased city rife with citizens who'd love nothing more than to slit my throat, _YOU by FAR _are the most difficult to deal with and give me the most trouble. You seem to have a habit of selectively choosing which information to absorb and synthesize, failing to acknowledge and appreciate the full spectrum of the generosity and privilege I provide for you," Bane continued to rage, nearly out of breath but fueling himself with his own energy behind each word he spoke.

Myra just eyed him before slowly focusing on the ground as if she were bored with his rant and was relatively unphased, despite the feeling blossoming in her chest which were anything but. She also knew any retort at this point would just be wholly underwhelming and bumbling by comparison.

"You also seem to forget that _you _instigate intercourse with _me _far more often than I do _you_, hmm? Isn't that so? If anyone were to be labeled and victimized as a 'plaything' in this relationship then that honor goes to _me," _Bane finished with a sneer, arching his body forward and bending his head down to get into her face for emphasis while jabbing a thumb into his own chest. Myra just leaned her body gently away as he continued laying out his own grievances, doing her darndest to allow the faintest evidence of a smirk play at the corner of her lips.

Myra's face slowly turned red from embarrassment but remained silent and still mildly skeptical as she looked sheepishly away. _Sure. If we count the times I wake him up for some quick late-night servicing, then yes. I'm the instigator. If we are only counting acts of penis penetration, then he's by FAR the instigator..._

Bane could clearly detect her skepticism and train of thought as if she were writing it out on a chalkboard based on her expression, shifting of her eyes, and mildly stubborn expression. She was clearly not ready to refute him verbally, but he could tell she wanted nothing more than to tell him he had his facts wrong. This encouraged him to elaborate further to drive home his point.

"Do I not provide for you? _Care_ for you? Do I not make attempts at alleviating any cognitive load off your dainty _spoiled_ shoulders so that you may have more time to think about sweet and lovely things? Do I not satisfy your sexual whims when they arise even if perhaps I were tired or exhausted from the day's affairs? Do I not _listen _to you, regardless of how absurd or petulant your concerns may be? Do you feel _ignored? _Am I not _adequate _enough for you? Don't you think I know I'm far from perfect but I at least _try _to make reasonable sacrifices for you? That is the nature of relationships. I know you sacrifice for me; I have no doubt you'd be much better off without me and would be pursuing a successful trading analyst career had I not interfered, probably even rising to director level by now and overthrowing those buffoons that currently control the remnants of Daggett Industries," Bane said with an aggravated heated snort.

Myra just gave him a mild glare at the insinuation that she sometimes had absurd and petulant tendencies but couldn't think of a reason to refute it. She knew she could be a handful sometimes with her behavior and remarks often turning into being less than endearing. He also undoubtedly provided for her; he made her meals, cleaned up after her, provided her entertainment, all in a lavish penthouse suite to reside in. He had a valid point; there was no real sensible reason for her to feel so lowly. He did _a lot_, especially when she had a vague idea of how rare his tendency to 'accommodate' anyone truly was. She searched his face in an effort to detect any sarcasm in his comment regarding what she perceived to be an absurd level of elevated success in her own career pursuits had he not gotten involved. She found none. This just made her feel shameful and embarrassed that he had more confidence in her ability to be successful in life had it not been for the introduction of certain variables, namely _Bane, _than she did.

And for what? Why does he do all of these things for her? Myra knew she wasn't particularly special. She wasn't smart; at least, not on his level. She offered no real talent. Myra knew she wasn't 'phenomenal' at sex; she was merely participatory and average at best. If that was truly what he craved then he most definitely could find a far better substitute. Myra also knew she was far removed from a typical 'sex symbol' based on her habit of wearing very baggy sweat pants, having messy unkept hair that generally was swirled together like a rats nest on top of her head, and her tendency towards wearing shirts that were stained due to her clumsy eating habits. Myra's eyes flicked briefly up to settle on his face, noticing a look of deep reverie taking over his features after her own guilt started setting in.

Bane wasn't done yet.

"Do these actions of mine _truly _make you feel like _trash?_ Because I most certainly can sacrifice these niceties I do for you if that is what you desire. Perhaps then you'd come to know the true meaning of contrition._" _He let out a heavy huff for emphasis before he finally straightened his back out, turning his head towards the plane and giving out a long, tired sigh while rubbing the palm of his hand right over the middle of his chest.

"It appears that I am but a man bound to suffer for those I care for. You women will be the death of me," Bane said with just the faintest hint of sadness, sarcasm, knowing, and self-pity. His words, perhaps unintentionally, couldn't have been closer to the truth.

Myra's face turned even redder, but this time it was from pure shame. She kept her mouth shut; any words that flew out of her mouth now would just sound idiotic and lacking in comparison to his. She marinated in that guilty feeling that also started constricting her lungs.

Bane slowly turned his body back towards the plane as if physically and mentally drained. He then gave out another beleaguered sigh before his eyes roamed over her.

"Any more hiccups will dampen our plans for this evening I'm afraid. So unless there's any other grievances against me _you'd_ like to declare, I'd suggest we make haste…" Bane said with a heaving breath, directing his arm towards the plane as a clear indicator that he simply wanted Myra to start walking towards it.

When Myra didn't instantaneously start walking towards the plane, he found a second-wind of energy that materialized into a none-too-subtle direct order aimed at her beat-red face.

"...so get on that _BLASTED _PLANE," Bane quickly transitioned into an all-out shout as if the last air from a balloon finally got expelled and fully deflated into a high-pitched ear-curdling hiss.

Myra leaned away from his booming voice being projected at her, eyeing him with a mild look of disgust that implied that there was simply no reason to shout. W_hy must he be so angry_? Why was he so loud and bossy? Calm _down._

Myra didn't say anything as her face continued turning into an all but beat red shade. Her feet did start to shuffle forward towards the plane in a miraculous act of self-propulsion spurred by his outburst. Her lips started working together furiously and she crossed her arms over her chest as she slid across the tarmac towards the plane. As she passed him she gave him a very mild stink eye as if to blame him for the uncomfortable guilt that settled in her heart.

Bane let out a huge sigh of relief as he eyed her scooting forward towards the plane before he followed closely behind her.

"Cheer up. You won't ever have to lay eyes on her again," Bane said to the back of her head, his tone all but transitioned into a reasonable perkiness which was a stark contrast to the tone he had used just moments prior.

Myra didn't say anything or acknowledge she heard him. She simply continued shuffling forward contemplating his audacious and mildly dramatic outburst before the faintest of smiles slowly spread across her lips.

* * *

**Author: AHHHHHHH T_T AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 3 I don't what to say, honestly. I'm sorry this chapter took so long to publish! I hope everyone says healthy and safe at home - I love reading your reviews and comments - it definitely motivated me to get into action!**


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